Undiluted Therapy
by otpbabyformula2
Summary: In a race to fix their marriage, Mike arranges for impromptu marriage counselling. But as Michonne grows weary and finds her own two feet again, a soft-gentle blue eyed man makes her wonder whether the time taken to build an old relationship would be better spent crafting a new one. (AU).
1. Chapter 1

Present:

"This is changing." He spat. "It hasn't been the same since... since so long." Mike ran his hands over his head and bent forward, looking at the ground, slightly rocking to the beat of anger that pumped through his veins.

"Michonne, do you think that your marriage is changing or has changed?" The therapist asked her, her lips pursed, her pen tapping the notebook resting on a thigh of her crossed legs.

"Of course, she'll say no! She won't admit it. Every time her phone buzzes I may as well not even be here!" Mike interrupted, tightening his hands into fists that he placed on his thighs. He couldn't form the words through the hurt, his vision was blurred as he looked at the red carpet and now he understood... he understood how she had felt when he had done everything, when he had been wrong.

Michonne's mind was racing.

What would her response be?

Would it be the right response?

Did she have to give the right response?

She thought about Andre.

Would he forgive her eventually?

"Mr. Anthony, it would be best if you gave her time to reply, as the question was directed towards her. But, your feelings are still valid in the meantime." Michonne felt a smile tingle her lips. She had loved this therapist, had loved her straight forward way of approaching the subject of their marriage.  
She would miss her.

The area in which Michonne knew her heart was positioned ached at that thought. She was giving up. Where had the years gone? Where would they go after this? Would Rick take her in, her tail between her legs.  
She had lost herself in the process, lost the burning sensation to jump into new things alone and independently... but sometimes, _no all times_ , she sighed, he bought it back. Rick, bought it back.

Michonne was aware that she was taking long to respond. That she was confirming the doubts that had plagued Mike at night, kept him awake until she returned in the middle of the night, creeping like a burglar trying to escape although she had nothing to hide during the jazz times. Until yesterday, she thought, where things had escalated.  
This morning the way they had moved around each other felt fraudulent. She was sure Mike had felt it to, with the way his hands slithered away from her on multiple occasions whenever he was close to her.

"I just need a moment, okay?" The therapist made eye contact with her, giving her a small smile of encouragement, allowing the butterflies in her stomach to wrap themselves up and hang patiently until they were next needed.

Mike continued to talk then, ignoring the request of the therapist to give Michonne time and allow her to gather her thoughts. Her mind tuned him out as she pictured Rick, his sloppy smile and his strong hands, where the slight tint of a previous wedding band had branded him. The dip in his voice when they have spoken and how it had hurt... how it had hurt them both.  
Although the hum of Mike's ranting still hung in he ears, she braced herself as she looked over at him. Looked at the anguish on his face, how deep the lines ran on his forehead, the darkness of the bags under his eyes that seemed to hang low, pulled on by gravity with such force.

She wanted to pine for him, to take her heart out of her chest and pine for him, but she couldn't. Here he was feeling her hurt and she had wanted this day to come, had even been down her knees to the all mighty and prayed that it would come and now that it was here... she didn't want to be a part of it.

Michonne didn't want to be like him.

But, she wasn't. She wasn't like him. There had been love when this began and he had taken that love and suffocated it, until it couldn't breathe, with lies and false ways.

"It's him, it's Rick." The crack in Mike's voice disrupted the trance Michonne was in and she gripped the chair arms so tightly that her nails began to hurt.

"No Mike, this... this changed a long time ago."

* * *

(365 days ago):

Mike had cheated.

It was the age old story that only a few handful of females Michonne had ever met had not experienced.

It was a normal day, Michonne thinks this is what hurt the most. That the sun was setting and painting the sky the color of bruises, whilst she folded herself into Mike and watched a rerun of the Fresh Prince of Bel-Air on the television. Andre sat in front of them, distracted by toy cars and babbling to himself nonsensically.

She remembered that her heart had felt at peace, laced with the love she felt for both the boys in her life. How satisfied she had felt within that moment.  
"I'm just going to go bathroom, ite?" Mike planted a kiss on her forehead and stood up, placing his phone on the coffee table in front of them. As he left the room, Michonne watched him, a bright smile on her face.

Bzzzzz. Bzzzz.

Mike's phone.

Michonne picked it up, where it was already on an open chat in whatsapp.  
You see, Michonne had never believed in the secrecy of passwords. She was an open soul, free in a sense. Her phone remained unlocked, she was transparent in all of her doings, because that's what love is she had said to Mike on their first date.  
Although, she hadn't forced him to partake in the idea, due to her understanding that privacy differed to other individuals. Though, on most occasions, Mike would allow her to grab his phone, enter his password and message whoever he was too tired to message himself.

What she saw made her heart drop. Messages first, that were followed by a picture of a woman. Naked. Shaved. Spread wide open for him to see. Her name: Baby 2. And she was sure that adrenaline made her digestion stop, that all the blood left her extremities and focused on keeping her heart pumping and alive.

She put the phone in her pocket, trying to process it all, whilst beginning to stand with shaking knees. Her balance was off, she was afraid of what she would do. Felt the burning sensation of anger spread like wildfire through her gut, felt the twitching of flames lick her fingertips. Felt the desire to throw things and...

Michonne scooped up Andre, auto-pilot mode kicking in. Kissing the top of his head while he played with the cars in her arms, she placed him in his room and on his toddler bed.  
Although she was quick turning the TV on, her shaking hands made it harder for her to find the right kids channel to entertain her son if he got distracted from the cars.

Increase the volume Michonne.

Once again, she kissed Andre's head and made sure he was covered with toys before closing the door.  
Her heart hammered against her rib cage, she swore her ribs were cracking under the pressure. Michonne's breathing was heavy, staggered, her vision sharp still, whilst the threat of tears was pushed back as she realised it would weaken her in the moment. Ruin her precision in directing her anger.

She took the phone out of her pocket once again, looking at the messages, the same drop in her gut present. To her amazement, her intestines weren't laying on the floor.  
Stepping into the living room, seeing Mike's snug face made her snap. Made the lick of fire that had once teased her gut burn it, so much so that it felt like cramps.

Before she knew it the phone had clashed into the wall just right to where Mike sat.

"What the fuck Michonne, why did you sma-?" The screen had cracked, part of it turning black from the impact. But he could still see it. Baby 2.

That's where it had began. They bickered, with Michonne throwing his clothes out on the front lawn, hissing at Mike to not be loud or he'd distract up her son. She emphasised that part, bitter and angry, sick at the sight of him.

She had cried that night, down the phone to her mother, her grandmother, her cousin Sasha.  
"Stay away from him Michonne. Fuck him." Sasha had repeated like a broken record every time the hiccups stopped the tears from flowing from Michonne. Sasha had even come to stay for the first two weeks, offering to take care of Andre and his questions as to where Daddy had gone.

Michonne had taken up a small job, as staying at home and taking care of Andre was no longer an option without any means of an income.  
But she had struggled and despite the many talks from Sasha she had overheard happen with Andre, he wasn't coping well. Sometimes she would hear him rehearse the word "strong, strong, strong" in the best way a three year old could. Sometimes he would cry for his father in the night and she had to be the only one to hold him.

So three months later, she was back with him. It hadn't been easy. He had begged, cried down her phone in the middle of the night while Michonne stayed strong and told him 'no, no, no', until one day she couldn't stand Andre calling out and wanted to give him what he wanted.  
She had been stern, that this was no longer a marriage but a partnership and he agreed, but Michonne could tell with the way his jaw was defined that he had paid no attention and was determined – as he had said – to make it right.

But something had died and it was as though he didn't want to admit it, didn't attempt to attend the funeral of their dying marriage in hope the denial would continue.

A week after he returned, Michonne got sick of staying at home. After feeling the buzz of work and remembering how independent she had been before Mike had ever been in her life.

"I'm getting a job." The statement left her lips as she chopped tomatoes for dinner, the hard knock of the knife on the wooden chopping board securing the words that she had said.  
"What about Andre? Who will look after him in the day?" Mike rested on the counter beside her, holding a drink in his hand and looked at her intuitively.  
"A nursery or we can hire a caregiver. Sasha told me about a great one she and Abe had hired a little while ago." Michonne moved around Mike to the stove and placed the chopped tomatoes in a pan filled with some garlic and onions.

"Why?" He asked, almost sounding disgusted.

"Because I want a job again, full time. I was a great attorney and having those small, menial jobs while you were gone made me realise what I was missing... as much as I love Andre." She had a bite to her voice as she turned to face him, well aware that her lips were straight and hard.

Mike's mouth opened and closed and Michonne knew she had won. "Okay."

* * *

(261 days until the present):

Soon she was working at a law firm.  
"Hello!" A bright bubbling woman came to her desk, her blonde hair in a sleek pony tail, with nails paintedblood red. "I'm Andrea!" Her right arm hung out to give a firm handshake. "Anything you need, I'm here for it – and if I'm honest, they haven't hired someone new in a while and you look like a blast." Andrea winked, before leaving Michonne to her new desk.

Michonne smiled at her kindness, the stone-faced greeting from the rest of the company had not made her feel welcome in the slightest.  
She sunk into her chair, breathing in deeply as she closed her eyes. Some part of her missed routine, missed the way she would wake up and be able to feed Andre. It had been difficult to pull away this morning.

Time passed quickly, she had forgotten the amount of work that was required in such a job. Holding her head through her locks, Michonne sighed and rested her elbows on the desk.

"You seem like you had a hard day. Been out the game long?" Andrea leant at her door frame, looking a little more disheveled that she had earlier.  
"Is it really that obvious?"  
Andrea waved her hand dismissively, walking towards Michonne and sitting on her desk right next to her. "Michonne are you open to coming out tonight? I know you may be busy with kids and all-" She made eye contact with the ring placed on her left hand.  
"A kid." Michonne corrected. Part of her wanted to say no to the idea of an excursion, purely because missing Andre had consumed her all day. But then she thought of her demeanor, how tight she had been and how the harshness of her voice had filled her lungs with poison, all due to the revelations that had occurred in the past 3 months. If she let her hair down just a little bit, she knew she would be lighter and if she were lighter... a better mother to Andre too, a funnier one at that. "And no, I'm very open to an outing."

Andrea hadn't mentioned men. Michonne had been under the impression that it would be both of them as they walked through the bar, she had assumed the attentive turning of Andrea's head was to look for an empty table for the two of them.  
However, her assumptions were put to rest when Andrea was greeted by a man from a table with a big hug and a kiss on the mouth.

"Hey babe. Michonne, this is Shane, the boyfriend. Shane this is Michonne, we finally have some fresh meat at the law firm and she doesn't seem half as boring as the rest of them." Andrea scoffed and peered over Shane's shoulder, who was in the middle of extended a hand to shake with Michonne. "And Rick's here! Rick, you overheard, meet Michonne."

A man with deep electric blue eyes, wearing a shirt that nearly matched them, stood up and smiled at her. He had dazzling teeth, and his smile stretched wide, yet slightly sloppy, surrounded by a slightly dusted beard. Rick, his name was. Michonne stepped closer and stuck out her hand, "Hey, I'm Michonne."

"I heard." He looked at her right hand, squaring in on the ring. "It's a real nice name. Rare too! I haven't heard it before." A soft twang was present in his voice that made her feel warm.  
Laughing, Michonne took her hand back and wafted away the compliment. "Oh, my mother would be happy to hear that – I think she's prouder of my name than she is of me."  
"Tell her she can be proud of both." Rick bowed his head slightly as he made the comment.

He seemed genuine. His eyes didn't linger over her body and he stared straight into her eyes. But it wasn't intense, it wasn't as though he was reaching for dominance, but instead was aiming to establish an understanding of the individual in front of him just so the conversation between two strangers ran smoothly.  
"So Rick, why did you bring us here?" Andrea said, now sitting beside Shane at the four seated, round, wooden table. "Did you conspire with Shane to finally get me to a jazz night?" Both the men looked at each other, slight smirks dancing along their faces and Michonne couldn't help but smile at the idea of them both seemingly tricked Andrea.

"We knew you wouldn't come And, so we had to find a way. The way you sounded excited about having a new friend in the office – you seem lovely by the way Michonne – we knew you'd be excited to get her out and about with you, us more so." Shane kissed her shoulder, adding a slight bite before he took his lips away from her.  
Andrea sighed and leaned back into her chair, "Well, I'm here now. Too tired to run away in these damn heels anyway."

As Andrea and Shane chatted, Rick and Michonne found themselves getting the drinks for the table.  
"So, how are you finding the new job?" He leaned against the bar, smiling at the bartender and putting up four fingers. Was he a regular here? If so, was it for the bar or for the jazz?  
In the beginning, Mike and Michonne would do things like this. Find bars and listen to music, buy the cheap albums from the unknown musicians and dance to whatever track they liked the most at home on Sunday's whilst they cleaned. It had been beautiful, soft, domesticated and she had loved the way it would always lead to them breathless and sweating in whatever room they cleaned last.

"It's great, truthfully, I haven't in a stable, full time job for a while... it's challenging, I love a challenge." The bartender placed two out of the four glasses on the bar top in front of them. "Do you like jazz then?"  
"No, I'm an alcoholic. This is the best bar around." His dead-pan face almost made her believe him, until a small snigger left his lips and he slapped his thigh as though he was the funniest guy in the world. His laugh was contagious, causing Michonne to giggle along despite her being the one who had been fooled. "Kiddin'! Honestly, I love jazz. Shane don't mind it too much – depends on the season with him. But Andrea, she's managed to avoid it all year like the plague."

He throws a nod to the bartender who returned with their remaining glasses. "Keep the change Ted!" Rick shouts over the mumbling voices of the bar as he places a bill on the bar top.  
"Anything for you Grimes!" Ted called back, waving his cloth in their direction as they picked up the drinks and walked away.  
"Grimes? On second name basis I see. Are you sure you aren't an alcoholic?" He chuckled as they got back to the table and placed the drinks down.  
"Naw, just a guy who likes the cool playing of jazz music on a friday night." Rick leaned in then, turning his mouth to her ear. "So, this your scene? Dp you like jazz?" Michonne nodded excitedly. She hadn't listened to much music over the past months. It didn't sway her the same anymore. "If I'm honest, and I'm an honest guy, I don't think Andrea is going to pay much attention and Shane gets easily distracted – if you know what I mean. If it's okay with your guy, would you like to come to Jazz Night Friday's?"

The contored look on her face made him shrink back like a deer in headlights. "Honestly, it's just because I have no one else that shares the interest of Jazz and you seemed to nod as though you did. No pressure, I just-"

He was rambling, Michonne could see it. Maybe he was a little lonely too. She knew how it felt to enjoy something and have no one to share it with... but the worse realisation was that she was supposed to have had someone to enjoy it with, and despite them being there, it was as though they weren't at all.  
Slightly gritting her teeth, she fought off everything that told her not to agree and placed a smile on her lips.

"You have a deal," Michonne leaned into him slightly, to whisper their secret agreement and managed to catch the twinkle that blanketed his eyes as the lights of the café dimmed for the first musician to play their piece.

* * *

Author's note.

I've never tried a really long fanfiction, this will be my first. I usually like writing really small bursts filled with emotion, so I'm excited to see how my writing style flows here. All compliments welcome and if anyone has anything to add - e.g. their favourite Jazz musicians - I'll be happy to listen.

I understand that some people may be upset with how I'd handled Michonne, but from my experience, sometimes woman do stay for the kids and try to make it work again for such a reason. I hope that people understand in some sense, it is realistic and not too out of character.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Just wanted to say that I didn't mean 'all compliments' in my other A/N on chapter 1, I mean't 'all criticism'.**

* * *

 **245 days to the present (one week later):**

Michonne pinched the bridge of her nose and breathed in deeply. The workload had been intense this week and majority of this work day – 6 hours of it, she recalled, as she looked at the clock just past the number 3 – was spent trying to rectify all she was behind on.  
She stretched her fingers, hearing them crack in the process. _Milk, I need milk._ Michonne chuckled to herself, thinking about all the times she would chastise Andre for hardly drinking his milk with her only defense being 'It will make your bones grow very strong'. She felt like a hypocrite.

At the same time, she was aware of the other areas in which her mind wandered. For example, Andrea had cornered her earlier in the breakroom, with bright red lipstick that made her stand out from all the dull appliances scattered around the room.

"I don't know if I should be telling you this," Andrea began whilst pouring coffee from the pot, "but Rick admitted to Shane that he was pretty bummed that you were married when you left last night." Her eyes, a colour of the mixture of blue skies and grey clouds, darted up to Michonne as she blew into her cup. "Which is a big thing, he's never bummed about anything. So thanks, in some way, for getting him out his shell for the first time in like... forever!" Andrea laughed at her own joke, finding her hand at her stomach as though the humour within the joke would cause her insides to fall out.

"Four yeas of marriage and I don't remember the last time me telling someone I was married had bummed them out." Michonne liked the compliment, felt the corners of her mouth tug outwards.  
Ever since the secret of cheating had been aired - as much as she didn't like to admit it – Michonne felt like less. Like she weighed less, or more so, the strings that used to help hold her shoulders high had drooped, they were less tight. They needed to be fine tuned.  
Admittedly, she had tried gym, yoga, self-help books and though they boosted her, she sometimes craved the affirmation that she was as she saw herself. Sexy. Desirable. And no matter how much Mike tried to touch her body now, using his tongue to make her cum like he had done over the many years they have been a couple, it didn't give her the affirmation she required.

"I don't believe you one bit." Andrea waved her hand as if to push Michonne's statement away.  
Turning to the fridge, Michonne looked for her lunch, "You said it like he hasn't been out of his shell for a long time."  
As she turned around, Andrea shrugged, "Honestly, it's not my place to say. But if you want to find out, I have Rick's number... Not to set you up or anything! I'm not the marriage-breaking type! But you seemed like you enjoyed the jazz show and if I'm honest, I'd rather being doing something a little more _fun_ with Shane on a friday night but he's been loyal to Rick the whole year due to his circumstances and God knows he needs it."

Still intrigued, Michonne bought the lid of her orange juice to her chin. What could he have gone through? She recalled seeing the distinct left over feature of a band on his left hand and to need a years worth of help, well, she wanted to know. "Andrea, you are so much at times."

* * *

 _Michonne: Hey Rick! I know it's Jazz Night Friday, but I can't do this Friday. Can we reschedule for next Friday?_

Admittedly, her feet hurt and the desire to be around Andre was heavy within her chest. Having back to back days of not being the one to feed your child breakfast, when you had been for years on end, made you feel out of routine. Made the concept of working feel alien compared to staying at home with him actually.

At the moment, Michonne sat in the garage with her car parked next to Mike's – which was odd for her to see because she was so sure that he'd be at work later than her.

Her phone buzzed in her hand.

 _Sasha: Hey cuz, just checking in on you and Andre. Not that scum. Hope you're doing okay, how's the new job?_

Michonne sniggered.

 _Michonne: One day he's going to pick up my UNLOCKED phone and see all the cuss messages you leave me with. What's going to happen then?_

 _Sasha: He's gonna have to square up if he's upset, that's what._

 _Michonne: If I laugh, I'll know I've entertained your violence and I don't want that on my hands. Anyway, Andre is fine, I miss being away from him at work. I met a new girl called Andrea at work, she ite. She introduced me her boy and a guy called Rick._

 _Sasha: I've always wanted to date a Rick. What does he look like?_

As Michonne left her car and the garage behind to go to her house, she thought about how to describe him. _Well he had blue eyes, they were sharp. Lean, maybe a little muscle. A beard that really suited his face and a neat jawline._

With her key finally in the door, Michonne heard the excited squeal of Andre and padded feet before she even saw the body it belonged to. Crouching down she waited for him to turn the corner to the door and crash into her.  
"Muuuuuuuummaaa!"  
"Hello my sweet boy!" Smearing him with kisses, Michonne rocked Andre to the soft hum of her heart and looked up to find Mike staring at them. Picking up Andre, she walked towards him and was pulled into a hug. Almost instinctively, she found herself sniffing the dip in his neck for any scent that wasn't his or hers.

She hated herself for it. It was a reminder that in her mind what he done had affected, entirely, to the point that even her unconscious felt that she needed to be overly observant to protect herself.  
Sometimes she wondered if it would work if she couldn't get over it, if she had to keep resisting the urge to check his phone whenever he wasn't around. Although the open password policy had been officially passed as a rule within the house – an attempt from Mike to win over her trust – Michonne wasn't in the same place of naivety as she was before.  
Open lock policy or not, she wasn't 100% won over and didn't know when the time would come when she would be.

Admittedly, it affected their sex life too. It was less, a lot less, than it had ever been. She could tell Mike was biting his tongue, that he would continue to bite his tongue until he felt like he won her over, and would then go back to his old dominant ways.  
Now it was her leading, it was her beginning. He had learned the hard way, where she would hiss at him the many times he had tried to touch her after he had returned. Now, she would have to be the one to grab him, to spread herself and give him permission to touch her body.

It happened less because it hurt to be a part of the act. Not because she was bitter or angry with him – which she was, in a place that resurfaced when the sun set in the sky and silence (n the absence of Andre's babbling) that smothered the house – but because it hurt to imagine where he had been, who he had been with and for how long. That her arms wrapped around him the same way that another woman's had, that maybe she moaned the same way and responded to his kisses in a way that the other woman may have learnt to.

The first few moments they began, Michonne would hate him. Hate herself. Yes it was a partnership – she couldn't bring herself to call it a marriage, because the shame laced through her and made the poison bubble and burn, creating a gas that choked her and made her see red whenever she remembered what he had done – but she had needs, that were fulfilled in moments of weakness.  
But as they continued, Michonne would get lost in the ecstacy, every time she would try and promise herself she wouldn't. But she knew she couldn't, that she'd mistakenly find herself thinking about him as though he was the same man.

"So, should we get you something to eat little man?" Michonne checked her watch, 6 o'clock. "We have to get you to bed soon and it smells like something is on the fire?" Kicking off her heels, she walked with Andre to the kitchen where she checked the pots on the fire. "Food ready yet?"  
Mike stepped closer and looked at the stove, "No, give it maybe ten more minutes and the we can feed him. Can't we?" He poked Andre, causing him to squirm in Michonne's arms.  
"Well, since daddy made food so late, we have to shower first." Frowning, Michonne rubbed noses with Andre. "I know honey, we never do that, do we?! Let's gooooo!" Running with Andre in her arms, Michonne's heart warmed at the sound of him laughing in her ears.

* * *

"So, are you home early on Friday's now?" Like a duo, Mike washed the dishes, Michonne dried them. She was the first to break the silence that often echoed between them in times where conversations weren't needed, but the distaste that hung in the air was too heavy to let sit alone.  
"I can be if you want me to be, it'll just mean finishing my work in the week quickly. I told the caregiver to go home early and paid her the full time, don't worry."  
"I want you to be. I have somewhere I have to start being on Friday nights and would like to come in and out without worrying too much." A stack of dried plates had gathered below Michonne, who picked them up and reached to a nearby cupboard to store them.

As she stretched, her phone buzzed in her jogging bottoms, loud in the – other than the clanking of dishes and sloshing water – silent kitchen.  
Throwing the tea towel over her shoulder, Michonne swiped at her phone, opening her whatsapp.

 _(Rick):_ _I'm real glad you messaged first in case I came off as a creep. Honestly, it's fine that you can't come. I just thought it'd be best for me to mention that you can invite your husband. The more, the merrier with jazz I think._

First she observed his profile picture. A picture of him with a child, that had the same blue eyes that he did. They were smiling, with ice-creams in their hands, in front of a merry-go-round. _His son, probably._

Looking at over Mike, who's lips pursed as he scrubbed at the dried leftovers on a plate, Michonne thought better of it. He had taken so much away from her, tainted her perception of herself, of their marriage and she had cornered herself. Watching from home, as he gave her a sense of security, flowering her with the income from his job as she rocked Andre through his early years and believed in faithfulness and vows and never would have envisioned them here. Her here. Aching when her eyes closed from images that she had grown tired of.

 _(Michonne): You seem too much fun to not have anyone else that's good company?_

Truth was, Michonne wasn't afraid to have another male as her friend. He'd be the first friend she found in her new journey, to be better, to work on herself and get back to who she used to be. That included having someone who wasn't Mike or family – as much as she loved Sasha - as another form of socialisation.

 _(Rick): Divorce... she took all our friends when I decided to move here._

A soft whistle left her lips as she read the text. No wonder he needed the year of Shane's friendship.  
"Who's that?" Mike had finished washing the dishes, now drying his hands on a tea towel and stalking over to Michonne. She recoiled from the defensiveness in his tone, causing him to raise an eyebrow in question. "If it was anyone of importance, I would have told you, don't _you_ worry about that."

Too tired to hold on to the heat in her gut, Michonne gave a large sigh. "Rick, someone Andrea introduced me to when I went to the jazz bar last week, remember? Anyway, he's invited me to Jazz Night Friday's, which may be a reocurring thing." She slipped her phone back into her jogging bottoms and went to wipe the rest of the dripping dishes on the rack.

"What does this Rick look like?" Mike towered beside her.  
Rolling her eyes Michonne moved to put a dry cup away, "Not good enough to be ' _Baby 2_ ', if that's what you want to hear." Sometimes, his insecurities leaked and she knew it was because they were a direct result of his guilt and the fear that she could easily do the same to him out of the anger she felt in her soul. That fact made it even harder for her not to reply in a sour tone that dried the mouth like lakes in a heat stroked summer.

Mike sighed, pressing his hands to the counter and gripping the edge so tight his knuckles poked glaringly underneath his skin. "Listen, I thought... we were trying to work past that?"  
"This is a partnership, we have to work together, not past things, _Mike._ " Crossing her arms in front of her chest, Michonne rested her weight on her right leg, slanting to the side to peer Mike up and down.  
"Listen, I just want to-" Mike's attempt to speak was cut short by Michonne's hand raised in the air.

"No, you listen. However I cope with this, whether it be references to humour myself or making new friends, if you _really_ want to move forward I need time. And freedom." Michonne nodded to herself, as if to say well done and turned around to close the cupboard.

"And if you're so worried about things, remember my phone still doesn't have a password on it."


	3. Chapter 3

**224 days until present:**

As much as Michonne wished she were opposite, Michonne was human, a gentle human at that and hated the feeling of malice in her heart. So, before the first time of going to the Friday Night Jazz, she peeped her head around her bedroom, her hair still loose with dreadlocks catching her shoulders.  
"Mike... Rick invited you. Do you want to take up that invite?" A pause dragged on like ellipses in the air until Mike pulled his eyes from the TV and looked at her.  
"I don't really like jazz no more Michonne. But you go on, have a nice old time with your Rick."

Having no energy to fight with him, Michonne withdrew herself from the room and walked to the bathroom. She liked what she saw, having not dressed up in a long time. A petite, but casual, black dress hugged her curves and made her legs look longer in the kitten heels she had planted on her feet.  
Grabbing her hair, she rolled it into a large bun and smiled at the way it made her facial features stand out.

Grabbing her purse, she passed the bedroom one final time and whispered, "Be back soon. Kiss Andre for me if he wakes up and tell him I'll be back soon."

* * *

The first jazz experience with Rick had been wonderful, comfortable even. She had arrived, worried that she wouldn't be able to see him and would stumble around unsure and sticking out like a sore thumb. But there he was, standing outside in the rain with an umbrella over his head and looking around, for her.  
"Hello," she leaned under into his umbrella. "It started raining on the way here, so silly old me didn't bring a coat with a hood. Thanks for the shelter." He smelled like pine trees and wore a shirt that was another shade of blue, a little darker than his eyes (from what she could remember because the darkness outside made it hard to decipher the colour of his eyes).

"It's no big deal, but let's go inside, my socks are getting wet and it feels really nasty." Rick chuckled, holding his hand out, allowing her to lead the way.

They had walked in together, first finding a seat at the bar. "We've got a while until the show starts," Rick looked at his watch, "about another quarter to an hour or an hour, is that okay? Do you have to be home soon?"

His eyes seemed to be darting around the room, as if he didn't know where to look. Michonne smiled, remembering what he had ordered last time and waved a small hand to the bartender, until she finally caught his attention and stuck up two fingers.  
The bartender nodded before winking at Rick, causing Michonne to snicker.

"You know, I don't know what my mother would say about me being friends with a married woman." He had said, looking a little past her, enough for it to look to others as though he was looking directly at her. "Southern, gentlemen courtesy would have me meeting you husband to make sure it's okay to even be your friend." Rick chuckled, scratching the wood of the bar top. "He's okay with it, your hus-"

"You know Rick," Michonne interjected, "I don't feel like talking about my husband." Straightening her back, she rolled her neck and took a deep breath in, before slowly letting it out. "Him and Jazz are on the opposite end of the spectrum of _fun._ " Making eye contact with him and being able to visually identify the tension in his shoulders loosening, allowing the strings that attached to his shoulder blades to be less rigid, more free, meant that Michonne could relax even more.

When their drinks finally reached them and they halved the bill, they found themselves a table.  
"So Rick, what'd you do today?" Michonne sat comfortably in the wooden cushioned chair, folding one leg over the other and sipping from the glass she held lazily in her hand. She was tired today, the work at the firm and coming home to a barely cleaned house – which she had to quickly clean – meant that more energy was taken from her than she could bear.

But she had made an effort, determined to stick to her goal of socialising.  
Sasha had been pleased when she had heard, but for all the wrong reason, still hating the fact that Michonne was _stuck –_ Sasha's words – with Mike.

 _(Sasha): Does it class as cheating if it's just a partnership?_

 _(Michonne): Only because he did it, doesn't mean I have to do it. That wouldn't be classy, and Ma would hate it if we weren't even a little classy._

 _(Sasha): True. Fine. Have a good time and tell me if there are any Jazz musicians that would be a good listen for me._

"Truth is, I was preparing for my son to come round." Rick delved into his son, talking about him with a genuine smile on his face that made the crows feet at the side of his eyes deepen.  
Nodding when appropriate and adding questions when required, Michonne managed to find out things about Rick that confirmed that he may have been lonely. That he hadn't shared many things with a person for a few months.  
For example, he got Carl on the weekends whereas his mother got him Monday to Friday because that's where his school was – over an hour away from where Rick lived. And that in the way Rick's voice dropped slightly that he tackled for a long time about staying closer to home for Carl.

She found that the conversation wasn't one sided however, because Rick too found out about Andre, because Michonne rambled and rambled on about him, because majority of it was still fresh in her mind.  
"I was a stay at home mum. I saw everything. It all seems new even though it isn't." Swirling the last remainder of alcohol in her drink, Michonne stared over at Rick's glass which was empty. "Refill?"  
Rick shook his head, his eyes finally watching her. "No, I'm a lightweight. Are you?"

"Not at all. My college days were a great time to build resistance."

They had conversed so much to the point of knowing a few finer details, for example, neither of them like beetroot - which they summarized by saying that nobody in their right mind should like beetroot anyway – and that Rick does art in his spare time. "It's one of those professions where you can have a passion for it, but you can't follow it unless you don't want a roof over your head." His head dipped low, just like the lights, as he made the comment and Michonne felt the slight buzz of genuine happiness on her skin.

Frankly, Michonne only seemed to feel that now-a-days when Andre walked and talked to her, pronouncing new words he learned at nursery and recalling them with excitement, or when she put forth a case with such precision that nothing could be picked out as a flaw. Work made her feel empowered, Andre made her feel proud and sitting here with a genuine person, who liked the same music that she did and seemed so carefree and go with the flow, made her remember her old self.

 _(Michonne): He's real chill._

 _(Sasha): I was about to make a real fast comment, but Abe is looking over my shoulder and says hello._

* * *

 **194 days to present:**

Friday Night Jazz had turned into 'any place on a Friday' jazz, where they made it their mission to try and identify other areas where jazz music was being played.  
"You know, as lovely as they are, it's the same players every week." Michonne had rocked her glass as the bar. "Would you be up for going further out?"  
Rick had looked genuinely content with the suggestion and had nodded along happily, before putting the drink to his lips and offering to be the one to drive them out wherever, as long as she picked the bars.  
"You better have good taste, or you'll have to pay all the gas money." He had threatened.

They had gotten close in the short time they spent going to jazz nights/bars, arriving there just a little earlier so they could continue their routine of a near-hour conversation whilst nesting a drink close to their chest – sometimes forgetting that it was there as they learned that in many ways they were alike.  
"So how long have you been with your husband?" He asked.  
"18 years, including being a couple and being married." She replied.  
"I know it ain't manners to ask a woman's age but-"  
"Ah, but you're asking it anyway, Rick. Truth is I'm not ashamed. A nice, healthy thirty-six. What about yourself?"  
He threw his hands up in self-defense. "No harm meant to happen ma'am, but I'm a strong forty." Rick had looked into his drink before taking the last swig of it.

Although all the way up to the one and a half month phase the question were simply surface questions, they weren't the deep type. They merely skimmed the personalities of who they were and nothing more, until Michonne decided to tiptoe her way around an inevitable subject.

"So," she had gestured towards the faint tan line of a ring that branded him now unmarried. Michonne had time the conversation, leaving them a small window of time to talk about it. Long enough to hopefully get to the mere bottom of things and widen their friendship, but short enough so the enjoyment of the jazz night could be maintained. "You were married?"

Rick had followed his eyes to the tan line and held his hand in front of him. "You know, I've been trying to stick this hand in any spot of fun I can and it hasn't done me one bit of good." Putting his hand down, he looked directly at her, rubbing his now clean shaven sides – which Michonne had prodded him for, pointing out to him the ladies that looked at him and trying to convince him to talk to them at the end of the night. "But yes, I _was_ married. Divorce finalised about a year ago."

His voice gave away that it was a heavy topic for him and she pushed her drink towards him, making him laugh whilst bowing his head to the table ever so slightly. "It's already a heavy topic Michonne, being a blabbering drunk will just make it worse, trust me." Rick shook his head.  
"We don't have to talk about it, okay?" Michonne patted his hand across the table, exaggerating when yanking it back to her body just to lighten the mood further. "Oops, can't be giving that girl over there the wrong impression."  
"What'd you mean?" Rick turned to where Michonne's eyes had just landed, finding a brunette tucking her hair behind her ears and dropping her eyes to the food placed in front of her.  
"Well," Michonne took the last drop of her drink, before licking her lips as the lights dimmed for the show to start, "She's been staring at you since we got here, lucky you."

And as fun as the nights had been, as random as they were, as much as they gave her something to look forward to at the end of the week, there was still times where Mike managed to pop up.  
She'd be riding in Rick's truck, with a jazz filled cassette tape slid into the cassette player – his truck was very, very old – and think about Mike.  
About the way he would voice his concerns in a jokey way, before the passive aggressive act bubbled down to nothing but genuine worry and direct remarks. Where Michonne would remove herself and not entertain him, to allow him to sit in his guilt and deal with his issues how best he saw fit.

 _I'm just doing things he's not used to and it's okay that it scares him like that._ Michonne often rehearsed this as she prepared herself to go out. There were nights she gave him reassurance, sat down and spoke about the night in transparent detail - as she always had – with this being her way of being genuine and honest; '"Something you were incapable of,'" she had spat the one-time Mike seemed to test her and not believe her.

If she was honest, she couldn't see why he was worried. Seeing Rick didn't cause a lump in her throat, it didn't do anything to her ribcages. Of course he was attractive, if you stared at anyone – Michonne believed – for a long enough period, it'd be possible to find something attractive about them. Maybe their eyes were a rare colour that had not been seen before, maybe they had a curl in their head that stood out, or a tattoo that demonstrated what kind of person they were in a still image. So of course, if she stared long enough and looked at his blue eyes and focused on the way his pupils dilated when the lights began to dip, or the way he always fixed his watch on his wrist with his large hands, she'd find him attractive.

 _But finding him attractive, doesn't mean you'll sleep with him._ And that was all she ever needed to remind herself that she wasn't anything like Mike, or wouldn't be.

Rick never crossed a line either, which made her wonder why Mike fretted in the first place. He had never laid a hand on her that was ill-mannered – for example, the last time she remembered him placing a hand on her was to save her from tripping – and had made no form of advances to her.

* * *

 **164 days to the present:**

It was a Friday evening, where Michonne sat with a glass of wine after work, not having to worry about a jazz night because Rick had come down with a sudden flu that kept him bed-ridden.

 _(Rick): I'm sorry to let you down, but I think I'd crash the car if I drove and sneeze all the way through the night._

 _(Michonne): That's okay, just try to be alive for next week, there's a lively group playing that I've heard nothing but good reviews about._

Flicking through the channels, itching to find something to cure her of her boredemn, Michonne is greeted by Mike with a squeeze to the shoulder, before he circles around her and sat down in the empty seat beside her.  
"Hey Mike." The red wine tasting dry against her tongue. He leaned over to retrieve the remote from her hand, catching her so off guard that it easily slipped from her fingers and allowed him to turn off the television. "Do you really want to test me on the last day of my work week? Honestly, you-"

Raising a hand to silence her, Michonne's face contorts at his notion. Before she can finish the rest of her sentence, and add more, he began to speak.  
"Listen, Mich, you bought me back and called it a partnership. You knew, and I know you knew, that I'd still want it to be a marria- _Hey!_ I'm speaking, just hear me out... I'm worried, about us. We ain't working together like we used to, so..." Mike took a deep breath, rolling his neck from side to side and his shoulders at the same time. "I booked a counselling session, with a real good marriage counsellor."

Slowly, but harshly, Michonne placed her wine glass on the table after gulping the remaining wine. "So," she hiccupped, "You mean to tell me that when _I_ asked you, the minute you stepped _foot_ back into this house, _for marriage counselling_ , and you said that 'we didn't need it' and 'we were fine', that now because you're afraid we have to do it? Where was my input?" Folding her arms, she leaned back into the chair, staring at him, her teeth gritted together just enough to prepare for her to suck her teeth.

"I know, I know. I didn't listen. But I thought this would go smoother-"

"I thought our marriage would go smoother Mike. But here I was playing house wife while you were playing house wife elsewhere as if this wasn't good enough for you!" Hissing, Michonne stood up, preparing to walk around him.

"Michonne," Mike gently wrapped his fingers around her wrist, stopping her from leaving. "I'm trying to make this work again, how many times can I say I'm sorry before I don't have to worry anymore?"  
"You don't get to put a number on the amount of 'sorry's' that I require Mike," Michonne bent down to stare him right in the face, looking at the tension in his jaw. Both were speaking through gritted teeth. "You should have been this worried when I found out about the cheating." Shaking off his fingers, Michonne heard the frustrated groan of Mike as she walked away.

* * *

 **163 days to the present.**

But true to her gentle nature, there she was the next day. Though they slept in the same bed, Michonne had found herself clinging to the edge, her ears pricked up to listen out for Andre in case he woke up. She felt as though when the tension ran between her and Mike, Andre could feel it and she didn't want that at all. Didn't want the carefree emotions of a toddler to be tampered with – because life had a way of doing that later on no matter how careful you were.

So Michonne had found herself arguing with her head – stubborn as it was – and her heart – where Andre curled up and made it glow – until she came to a decision that this was for Andre and she would try, she would try to make it work.

The therapist they met was neat, natural hair sleeked into a bun, with dark red lipstick painted on her lips. She was older, her mannerisms gave that away, but she looked young. Michonne didn't want to guess her age and instead flickered her eyes to Mike, who's eyes seemed to travel to the woman's legs faster than any other feature on her body.  
Michonne bit her bottom lip and inhaled deeply through her nose, placing her eyes to look at the therapist, who's glasses sat at the bottom of her nose as she peered at the paper.

She was paying no attention to Mike at all, causing Michonne's muscles to relax. _Good,_ she thought, _this won't be any problem of mine._

"Well hello Mr and Miss Anthony - is it okay to call you both that?" Mike looked at Michonne, who shook her head.  
"No, it's okay to call us by first names. I'm Michonne, he's Mike." She nodded towards him, placing a smile on her face to the therapist.  
"That's fine, let me jot that down. Since we're on first name basis, I'm Rosaline. But you can call me Rose in session, it makes everything quicker and you get more for your time that way." Rose winks at Michonne and leans forward slightly. "So, who wants to tell me why we're here?"

Crossing her legs and arms, Michonne settles into the chair, facing Mike. "It was your appointment, say what's up."

Mike clears his throat before diving into the ordeal, skimming the details really quickly, whilst never looking in Michonne's direction. _Good,_ she thought, _feel the shame that comes with relaying your dirty deeds with others._  
When he finished talking, he let out a deep sigh and rested back into the chair. "I'm sorry, I really am, I just don't know how we can move past it." Mike added a shrug.

"How long ago was this?" Rosa asked, finishing scribbling some notes from Mikes comments.  
"I found out six months ago. How long it was going on for, I never asked. I don't think I want to know yet. I don't think I'll want to know." Michonne remarked, her body still large in her seat as her legs and arms remained crossed.  
"Do you think it will bring you closure if you do?" Rosa looked intimidating, with the way her eyes travelled down her nose and directly at Michonne. Prodding her, requiring more from her that shallow answers anyone could give.

"I think it will make me angry. Angrier than I've been and I've been real angry these past six months." Michonne ran one hand through her undone locks, rubbing her scalp slightly as she did.  
"Well, what has being so angry done for you, do you think?"  
"Motivated me, to be better." Michonne picked at a slight thread that was out of place on the arm of the chair. She wondered how many couples had been here, how many had overcome cheating, how much of the time it had been the woman that had been cheated on. "A quick question," she added, looking up from the arm of a couch. "What is your pass rate, for this kind of cheating scenario?"

The therapist smiled at her, making a note on her pad that left Michonne wondering. "A strong 90%."  
"Ah, so there's a 10% chance we may not make it... How do you feel about that Mike?" Michonne's head turns towards Mike, who seems dumb founded, scrambling in his mind for words to make it seem like it would be the biggest deal to him.  
"Not so fast Michonne, we'll get there. This is just a session to get to know the problem, how it has made each party feel and the differences slash similarities in the way that each party thinks they can fix the problem. We aren't looking at an end yet."

Shaking her head understandingly, Michonne began to speak. "'How it has made each party feel', right?" Her shoulders rested, with the strings that kept her shoulders up feeling less rustic, slightly more tuned, "it's reminded me that I was something before Mike, that as lovely as being a housewife is, I missed the feeling of doing a good job. I missed who I was. It's reminded me that I'm could be who I was... again. With or without his encouragement."

And the remaining half hour of their session skimmed by with only some skeletons being dug out of the closet.

* * *

 **A/N: Just wanted to say thank you for all the kind reviews and how involved everyone has been. I hope that you continue to enjoy the story.**


	4. Chapter 4

**157 days to the present:**

The gentle chatter of the bar played like a broken record behind them as Michonne clinked glasses with Rick, playing into their ritual of beginning the night with excitement.  
"This is a real good spot Michonne." Rick looked around, his blue eyes scanning the scene in the bright light as he whistled through his teeth. "I'm glad you got the job of searchin', I probably would have placed us in a dingy bar." Placing his glass on the table, he twirled it around with his fingers and looked at her.

"Well from what I know, your mother wouldn't be happy about you taking any girl to a dingy bar, much less _a married woman._ " Laughing at her quick wit, Michonne raised the glass to her lips and drank only when the giggles had faded.

"You're right, when are you ever wrong?" Rick shook his head as a response to Michonne's shrug at his statement. She sat with her back straight, facing Rick only, oblivious to the stares she got whilst sat at the bar looking as beautiful as she did. "You know, as much as you tell me about girls looking at me, it's like your oblivious to the same thing happenin' to you."

Having been around Andrea so long within the workplace, Michonne had picked up the habit of swatting at the air to dismiss a statement that she didn't agree with. "Because it doesn't really happen, which isn't to say that I don't know that I'm attractive."  
"It'd be weird if you didn't know that, you're beautiful," it rolled of his tongue in such a nonchalant way that Michonne thought nothing on it _or_ the slight hiccup that found her throat as she sipped her drink. "But I could literally point out one now and you'd catch him in a second."

"Come on Rick," she softly kicked him. "I always point them out so you can get some ass."  
"Ass?" He recoiled, acting offended. "I get ass." Michonne held his gaze without batting an eyelid, until Rick's eyes fell in slight shame that he had been found out. "There's nothing you can get passed a lawyer, huh?"  
Michonne leant forward, laying a hand on his shoulder, causing him to look at her close face as she went on to pat him, "No Rick, you can't get it passed a friend… and maybe the lawyer part has helped me."

The smug look planted on Michonne's face caused Rick to shake her off and get back to his drink, making eye contact with her as he downed the last few drops. "Well, Mrs. Lawyer, how has your day been?" His blue eyes darted away from hers to make contact with the bartender, where he stuck up two fingers, signalling for another of what they just had. She liked how they seemed to be in unison. Every bar they went to – " _for a small taste of adventure_ " as Rick had said – they would look at the menu and order a new drink, only to find that they both would order the same drink; which inevitably led to one person choosing the drink that would be had for the night.  
'"We'll just end up choosing the same anyway."' Rick had shrugged, handing her the menu after his miraculous idea.

If she thought long and hard enough, she would say that Rick was above Andrea in terms of closeness. There was a closeness that came with the calm atmosphere of a jazz bar, coupled with the talking and the music that played when the lights dimmed and the focus was on stage.  
She would find herself looking over at him, clicking his fingers – not one bit out of tune to her happiness – and swaying slightly, with his head dipped to a side, and she would feel grateful. Grateful that Andrea had asked her to tag along to – unfortunately for Andrea, as Michonne recalled – a jazz night, because it had meant that she wouldn't have met Rick. Who liked the same thing she liked and genuinely enjoyed it, giving her something to look forward to at the end of the week.

In the time they had been friends, it had become easier to identify his quirks. The small scrunching of his brows when he had something on his mind – usually related to his ex wife Lori and how she handled Carl – to when his day at work had gone brilliantly and he would bring his hand to scratch his beard and cover the smile on his mouth. '"I hate to beam too much when something goes well,'" he had said when she commented on his actions, '"Makes me feel like I'm gloating."'  
In the same way, he had become well equipped in detecting her shifts in moods. A jazz bar left the air empty enough for you to identify any shift in it, whether that be due to silent reasons (emotions for example) or verbal reasons (a dispute brewing at a table of lovers in the corner, that raised an alarm like black smoke in a building). That's why Michonne wasn't surprised he had asked her about her day so soon.

"It was a bad shift." Downing her drink as the next one was placed in front of them, Michonne quickly picked up the other one. "I kept making small mistakes when reading over some things. It's been hard recently… harder."  
Rick nodded with empathy. "I could tell, you were doing that really annoying foot thing where you shake it whilst you sat down. These two drinks are yours, seems like you needed a real loosening up." He watched her gulp down the glass. "What'd you mean by harder?"

Checking her watch, Michonne sighed. They didn't have long enough to talk about it in explicit detail, although she had felt the topic bubbling up at the surface for some time now.  
The marriage counselling was bugging her, it had been ever since they left the first session and she had felt dissatisfied. Why? Because it hadn't changed anything immediately – and she felt stupid for ever allowing herself to think with such naivety – as she had left with the same amount of anger and resentment stored in between her ribcages.

What had Mike thought? Doing something so selfish on a whim.  
In the breakroom on Monday, talking to Andrea about it had seemed absurd, causing her to clamp up the minute she confessed to what her Saturday morning had contained.  
"I thought you had already asked for that?" Andrea had commented, now wearing a nude lipstick that matched a beige appliance behind them.  
"I know, that's why I'm angry, I think…" Michonne had sighed, sinking onto the edge of the counter, her lips tight and unable to open again. This wasn't the place and the time for things to be let out into the open.  
Sensing a slight discomfort from Michonne, Andrea had walked over and placed a lazy arm over her close friend. "Whenever you need to talk, just call me."

Her statement had reminded Michonne to talk to Sasha again, who had left her on the Saturday afternoon with similar words after she had spilled the beans.  
'"If I weren't trying to be good right now – because Abe has a bad mouth that keeps getting him in trouble at work - I would cuss all ten ways from Sunday."' Sasha had stated, causing Michonne to laugh down the phone. '"What an ass!.. I'm sorry Abe, baby, I know, I know."'  
They had gone back and forth like they had done for many months, Sasha convincing her that she could do it, she could leave and Michonne saying no, mentioning Andre. '"Sometimes, you think you're saving them, but kids are smart. They can find the cracks and leaks."' Sasha had said before wishing her the best of luck and telling her to keep a smart head on her, to not get too caught up in Mike and his doings. '"You're smart, don't forget that.'"

Sitting in front of Rick right now, acknowledging that she was ready to talk more openly about it due to the lack of pressure that surrounded her, Michonne leaned is as though ashamed of what she was about to admit.  
"My husband arranged for us to go to marriage counselling, which I had asked for a good while ago after… some things had happened." Thinking that Rick would interject, she paused. When he didn't and his eyes stayed on hers as though waiting, watching for the flicker of emotion where he would need to input to save her from bawling (probably), she took a swig of her drink and continued. "There are things making me angry with him. Making me not want to sit in that seat and have to listen to his reasonings, how meaningless they are… but at the same time how worthless they make me feel and I've been trying to change but I know every session will remind me of that feeling of being worthless-"

Suddenly resting a hand on hers that was placed on the bar top, Rick gives it a gentle squeeze. "I don't know what's going on, maybe you'd like to talk about it in the car ride home, no pressure, just company. But… as I said earlier, you're beautiful," he paused, as if to contemplate what to say next. "And you're a lawyer, so you're intelligent too – icing on the cake. I don't know about your husband, but if these sessions are making you feel worthless, you're going to have to ride through them – this is me assuming you want to fix everything. But just have some… reminders, that you're not. Like positive affirmations, or something…"

Michonne smiled, uncrossing her legs as she loosened up. "First thing on my list, Rick called me 'beautiful' _and_ 'intelligent' in one night. A good days work happened today?"  
Rick bowed his head, peaking up finally to meet her eyes once more. "Naw, just don't like seeing a friend doubt themselves." Looking around, Rick's eyes widened in alarm. "Shit, he's starting to unpack, we better find a seat before the lights dim or I'll trip and embarrass us both."

They both started to get up, Michonne grabbing her glass on the way. "Yeah, a good one at the front too!" she said.

* * *

The drive home had started off quietly. Rick playing an old cassette tape as he waited for her to start the conversation, darting his eyes across to find her playing with her thumbs and biting her lips.  
Eventually, he had reasoned that he should start opening the depths of their friendship even further and spoke about the subject that had once come up, but had not been delved into.  
"Lori cheated on me. That's why the divorce happened." They were at a red light when he said it, loud, which Michonne thought was due to the fact the windows were closed as the rain poured over their truck and onto the street. "It was with a close friend of mine, Morgan. I had known him for years upon years." Michonne's eyes flickered to his tight grip on the steering wheel, the white of his knuckles and the way he didn't take his eyes off the traffic sign.

From the opposing traffics lights she could see the way his eyes had grown steel, unmoving, as she was sure he lived the moment in his head over and over again.  
Nothing was said for a few minutes until the light went green again, in which Rick's shoulders loosened and he let out a steady breath. "So I asked for a divorce the minute I found out. I couldn't do it. I kept thinking about Carl and fighting for him, but I didn't get him full time. Staying there was absolute _shit_ – sorry, I've cursed a few times tonight – because everyone kept wanting me to forgive her, to make it work. We were high school sweethearts, that was the story, so it felt like it was everyone else's relationship more than ours at the time."

Michonne wanted to rest a hand on his shoulder but thought better of it, clamped up as she recalled her situation, how similar it was… how rare to find a high school sweetheart story with the same narrative, plot line, dialogue even.  
She allowed Rick to drive and talk as she collected his voice, listened to the bitterness and the hurt that spewed, that she was sure Shane had heard a lot throughout the year and relayed to Andrea when it had been too much to bare on his own. Rick seemed to be aware of that too.

The tightness of his jaw made her think of how she must have appeared, sitting in the counselling seat. Heck, even how she may have appeared all those months ago when she had gathered Mike's things in a fit of rage and threw them outside, or when she held open the door for him to return home and greet his son.  
Digging deeper, Michonne admired Rick. You wouldn't have thought with the way the soft light of the stage found a way to dance in his eyes at the café's that he would have been hurt so deeply, she hoped her heart would mend enough for that to be the case for her.

"It's like a breath of fresh air, talking to someone new," he stated as he pulled onto her street. "To everyone else, I sound like a broken record."

When he finally pulled in front of her house, the silence in the car wasn't deafening. It wasn't pressed to the edges with tension and pressure for Michonne to confess the secrets of her marriage that had placed her in marriage counselling in the first place.  
She knew there would be no prodding, no added opinion, just a place to wash her dirty laundry and see it air dry, free from the clothing line that were her ribs.  
But Rick wasn't sure that she was ready to talk and instead cleared his throat, breaking her out of the spell that was her mind. "Well, another great night. Don't forget you CD, you're making a whole collec-"

"He cheated. Like Lori. He cheated too. But I guess it doesn't hurt as much as yours did because with a long term friend must have been hard…" Michonne was delicate, didn't want to overstep or minimise experiences. But it felt good to get it off of her chest in a non-judgemental environment. She didn't need advice. Just someone to listen. "It was with a random girl, I think. I never asked where she was from, who she was. It would have thrown me off my game knowing too much and that's…" Her vision had begun to blur, in which her bodies reaction was to grit her teeth and fight them back with big gulps of air until her hands stopped shaking in her lap and she could see again. "The stupid counselling sessions mean I have to confront that and I'm not ready to feel that worthless again."

Rick wasn't looking at her, which she was thankful for, but instead has his hands pressed to the wheel again. His knuckles white again. And his jaw stiff and rigid. His eyes closed as his face screwed up… until it all went away and he leaned back into his seat.  
"You know Michonne, if there is anyone in the world that shouldn't doubt themselves it's you. I mean it. The way you're talkin', reminds me of how I felt. I'd be right if I said you stayed for your son, Andre?" Michonne nodded. "Yeah, yeah. You're stronger than me in that sense. That's something to add to your list, to not feel worthless. Sometimes I wish I had stayed… just to see him more."

Both comfortable with the things that had been said, both parties hearts rose and fell to a steady beat. To a more peaceful beat. The realisation that they both had experienced the same thing and could connect, no matter what was said, meant that a new depth of closeness had formed. There was more to them now than the tip of the iceberg that had seen, and Michonne was grateful for the second time in the night as she rested her hand on the door handle, clicking it to pop the door.  
"Thanks for listening Rick," she said whilst looking back over her shoulders once her legs were out the door. "Listen, you're a good dad. The way you've spoken to me about Carl… you don't find many men that will do that. In some ways, your freedom now, I envy it… Thanks again."

Pushing herself out of the seat, she breaths in deeply, before turning to shut the door behind her.  
The shadows of the car cover Rick's eyes, making it hard to make direct eye contact with him.

But the streetlights capture his lips to show a soft smile curling at the corners before he said "You're welcome, 'Chonne," in a tone that was a lot less nonchalant than the one he had spoken to her with earlier.

* * *

 **A/N: I just wanted to say I read every comment the minute they pop up in my email. Thank you to everyone. Any criticism, I'll take it on the chin :) P.S. I hate writing short-ish chapters :(**


	5. Chapter 5

**156 days to the present:**

The clock struck 10 and once again Michonne found herself in her living room, waiting for the child-minder to arrive.

Michonne sipped hot coffee as she curled her feet up on her sofa. _The day had started well enough_ , she thought, as she watched the clock strike ten. Michonne had bathed Andre and clothed him, waiting for the quarter past ten arrival of the babysitter.  
'"We wouldn't have needed to pay for a babysitter if you hadn't made an impromptu decision,"' she had followed the statement with kissing her teeth. '"Should have made plans to drop Andre off to your mother or something.'"  
'"She would have grilled you at the door, would you have liked that?'"  
'"Who said I would get out of the car to see the woman?'"

Wincing into her coffee at the memory of her harshness, Michonne felt the buzz of a text message in her back pocket. Juggling her coffee in one hand, she reached down and found her phone, swiping it to reveal a message from Andrea with too many capital letters.

 _Andrea: COME AROUND LATER! THE WEATHER IS 2 BEAUTIFUL 2 NOT HAVE A BBQ. Bring mike (IF YOU GUYS ARE OKAY) BUT DEFFO BRING ANDRE THE CUTIE! HE CAN PLAY WITH CARL RICK'S BOY! XOX_

 _Michonne: I'm guessing Rick will be there also, is that a good mix?_

Michonne pondered as whether to mention the arrangement Mike. She didn't know what he would do. After the last session (and the many mumblings that followed it), the green of envy seemed to coat Mike's skin. _It made him even harder to look at recently_ , Michonne thought.  
He had seemed peeved at her last night, stewing in a silent passive aggressive manner, where his sentences were short and his words barely hitting more than three syllables when he really tried. She hadn't entertained him, but had found herself a little bit ashamed at what it may have looked like when the clock showed her it was close to two in the morning.

Yet, her mouth didn't open to tell him otherwise. In fact, she was offended to the point of silence on the matter. How could he… the one that had done in the act, now present himself as pure and holy enough to think she would do the same? How could he paint that onto her? Tainting her with his filth.  
Michonne felt her body tense with the desire to confront him, but she breathed, she'd wait until the session to look more civilised and to not be painted in a negative light like he wanted.  
Mike's ability to push his insecurities on her in the present time made her want space… which wasn't given when they shared the same bed, or lived in the same house, or went to the same sessions.

She sighed as he phone buzzed again.

 _Andrea: WHO CARES? SHANE WILL SHOW OFF HIS MUSCLES IN A TANK TOP AND WE'LL HAVE RIBS. IT'LL B GREAT XOX_

Snorting, Michonne texted that she would get back to her and put the phone back into her pocket. Taking a sip from her coffee, she heard Andre as he ran into the room laughing, followed by Mike who had his hands up in a claw stance.  
"The monster is going to get you!" Mike roared, slowly following little Andre around the room.  
Instinctively Michonne caught herself smiling at Mike, but just before he turned to her, Michonne brought the coffee to her lips so he wouldn't get the wrong idea.

"She's going out more, I don't feel important." Mike look dejected, his body slumped forward whilst he looked at Rose searching for an answer.  
They had been in their for half their time and again, Michonne was tired, feeling as though they had not gotten anywhere significant. It had started with the usual asking how we felt since the last session, with Rose being satisfied that we had continued using her services and that she knew she would make a break through with us. '"You have great chemistry, we just need to bring it out once again'" she had stated, looking at Michonne in the process.

You could tell Mike's tongue had been moving in his mouth, prepared to spill the beans on his emotions and avoid the sense of responsibility of his acts and the way it had hurt Michonne. Whilst she sat back, listening to him give everything he had, she remained quiet, thinking, preparing for a way to answer so that she could still leave the house and not worry about contradicting what she said in therapy.

She couldn't give him what he wanted at the moment, which was to socially isolate herself once again and give him the undying love that he needed. The boastful confidence that he had her in the palm of his hands and she wouldn't go anywhere without him. It wasn't there in her. The burning desire to be independent and self-serving had been ignited now, sat deep within her stomach and the jazz café's she ventured to with Rick on Friday nights and the invitation to a BBQ Andrea gave her today.

"Not ignoring your statement Mike, but do you think Michonne may have felt unimportant when she found you had cheated on her?" Rose met Michonne's eyes and twitched a little, a small notion she had found Rose did when a gateway had been opened for Michonne to speak within the session. It seemed Rose had understood that Michonne would only interject when something really offended her and a defense was needed to make sure that her growing confidence was not belittled.

As Mike sat there, squeezing his eyes shut, trying to look as though he could really comprehend her emotion, Michonne unfolded her legs and faced him. "I'll tell you, I have a list of words to describe that event. Angry. Unimportant. Worthless. Horrified. Fucked. Regretful. Angry. Again. Hurt…. Hurt." She hated that word, 'hurt'. It was so heavy, she pictured it like it was a hammock. Light and free, then someone came and they weighed it down, pulled the trees it was tied to down with it and there the person remained in a peaceful sleep while the hammock pained and pained.

Feeling her blood pressure rise, she turned away from him, crossing her legs and nodding stiffly at Rose who waited patiently, her pen tapping her thigh in a sporadic rhythm that Michonne couldn't rest into.

"Mike… have you accepted how you made Michonne feel in the situation? For her to list the words so easily… it says to me she feels like you haven't." _Damn right._ Checking her watch, Michonne knew she would wait a while for Mike's reply. He done this in the session and it only irritated her, made her want to roll her eyes in the back of her head, but the last time she had done that Rose has scribbled something hastily.  
It made Michonne feel as though she looked like she wasn't working towards her marriage. But she was, wasn't she? Her she sat, spending her free Saturday mornings trying to fix something that should have (and at times she wished she had) let go.

"Of course I have. But she!-" Mike began, but couldn't stop.

"You see, that's my problem. He always turns it around on me. It would have worked previously. Being a house wife if the dinner wasn't done he would come home and argue, and I'd think it was because of me somehow. But for all I know it could have been because his side bi- I mean, it could have been because he had stress coming from _somewhere else._ " Sighing, Michonne ran a hand behind her neck and help up her other hand, pausing the room and holding both their attention because she was well aware that Rose would say it had been Mike's turn to speak.

"We're stuck, I accept that. He doesn't. Trying to push this forward without acknowledging shit – sorry – _things_ is going to get us nowhere." She was staring him the face now, watching the film of ignorance pass over his eyelids. He wasn't listening to a word she said, just waiting to give an answer and press his face towards Rose so she would agree with him and give him the reassurance that he wanted to validate his feelings. "I'm trying to live life for my son, so he can have a happy mum. What do you want from me Mike? I was happy and you still cheated."

"Can't you let it go?" Mike said before a heartbeat had time to occur. The irritation in his voice made her smirk, he had exposed himself, the victim complex that he bought here fading as she didn't cave into him like he wanted.

"Mike, you need to understand that you can't just let something go. That requires time and work, from both sides." The therapist placed her pen down, pushing up her glasses and rested forward, placing her hands together between her knees as she peered at Mike.

"Especially if you hurt them."

* * *

Rick opened the door to Michonne and Andre, greeting her with a big smile. After the stressful session, it was nice to see a smiling face and Michonne found herself reaching out for an embrace as she stepped over the threshold.  
He felt strong, which surprised her, because the shirts he wore never did him the justice of giving off that idea. She found herself sniffing his neck ever so slightly and found the cool smell of pine tingling down her lungs and being placed in the back of her mind as a source of a strong memory of him.  
"Hard morning?" Rick whispered into her ear as they parted.  
Nodding, Michonne gave into the relaxed demeanour he had surrounding him. The slight pool of curls on his head, the sea blue eyes that looked like water when the tide was coming in and the beer that sat in his hands and the condensation that wet his fingers from it.

"And who may you be little man?" Squatting down to Andre, who stood in front of his mother now as if to protect her, Rick held out his hand. Andre peered wearily at it until Rick changed it a high five, in which Andre kindly agreed and slapped with all his might. Smiling at Rick's ever so hurt reaction, Michonne looked forward to find a long haired young boy walking towards them.

"Hey Dad, is this Michonne? Andrea told me to come and check." He smiled at her, the same sloppy smile that his Dad exhibited on his best days. They shared the same eyes too.  
"Yeah," Rick had picked up Andre, who had taken a firm interest in his beard, rubbing his palms against it and giggling at the feel. "She's a friend, she likes jazz too – he hates jazz by the way Michonne!" Rick's tell-tell tone made Michonne chuckle.

"I won't be mad at you if you promise… to let me wear that baseball hat for five minutes." Michonne pointed at the hat on Carl's head, then leaned in to flick the front of it. "Or I'll tell you the worst knock knock jokes and make your Dad sit on you the whole time so you can't leave."

"And I might be extra gross about it!" Rick winked at Carl as if translating a secret message, who shivered slightly and took off his hat.

"My hair looks a mess without it, but you're lucky, I never give this hat to anyone. Not even Dad… and it was his first."

Michonne nodded, pressing the hat to her heart. "I promise to treat it well in the five minutes that I have it." Leaning down to Carl, she quickly whispered, "I bet your Dad didn't look as cool as you in this hat." Holding her hand in a fist, she pushed it towards Carl. A smirk lit up on his face and he laughed, "Of course he didn't."

"What was that?" Rick said from behind, still entertaining Andre.

"Nothing." Both looked in his direction guiltily, before nodding at each other.  
"Is that your son Michonne? Can I hold him?" Carl sounded eager.

Michonne smiled at him. "How about you get to hold Andre _and_ play with him for the time we're here, because he doesn't seem to like your Dad. Look! He's pulling away from him now." The little contorting face of Andre made mission laugh as he squirmed from Rick, looking for a way out.  
Carl happily took him, Andre finding himself with a fistful of hair to play with, no longer on the verge of crying.

"I thought we got along." Rick said beside her, playfully resting his head on her shoulder in an attempt to play sad.  
She patted his head and ruffled his curls a little. "Rick, you were so close."

"But I'm just better." Carl chimed in, causing Michonne and him to snort together.

"MICHONNE! I CAN HEAR YOU SNORTING, GET OUT HERE!" Andrea called from further away. Already a slight slur in her voice, causing Michonne to shake her head and start to walk in the direction of her voice. "Thanks for the hat Carl!"

"Give it back when you're going to leave, it's okay. If you don't, I'll keep cute Andre forever and ever!"

Rick followed behind her, giving Carl a look to make sure he was careful. The slight sway of Michonne's hips under the sundress catching his eye enough to make him blush, just a tinge, and swat at the air surrounding his cheeks so it wasn't even visible by the time they got outside.  
Andrea ran towards Michonne, bumping into her carelessly before wrapping her arms around her and taking a swig of her drink over Michonne's shoulder.

"It's just hitting two in the afternoon and you're already there Andrea?" Tutting as they parted, Michonne looked over at Shane and gave him a wave. "How are you doing Shane?"

"Good, she got me at the grill and that always spells out good things for me later." He waved his spatula in the air.  
"My son's in there." Rick hissed, shaking his head and taking a sip from his beer.  
"For all he knows I could be talking about a spelling test, chill out Mr. Dad."

"You'll be there soon mate."

"Well," Andrea interjected, "with the way he's looking in that tank top, I'd call him Mr. Daddy." Laughing at her own, she placed her beer down and went to sit on the lounge chair next to her. "Come sit, Michonne, I want to talk! Also _(hiccup)_ where's Mike?"

Mike wouldn't have wanted to come. Knowing this, Michonne hadn't mentioned the idea to him and had instead said that Andrea wanted a small get together with some of her other friends, in which some of them had children that Andre could play with.  
'"Have fun!" He had kissed her on the cheek. '"You know, I really feel like we are getting somewhere."' Mike had said this looking into her eyes, as if searching for a mutual feeling that would show they were moving, on a straight road with a clear destination. She found that she couldn't hold his gaze for long and instead patted his chest before she walked towards the car where Andre was already seated in his chair.

"He was busy, with work." She said as she stretched over Andrea to grab a can of juice.  
"So much for trying." Andrea commented with a hint of venom.

From then on they chatted, which mostly included Andrea saying something that would trigger Shane, which led to Shane commenting on something old that Rick had never seemingly mentioned to Michonne and Michonne finally being bought in on the banter that they seemed to carry infectiously.  
In the middle of it, she excused herself and went to the toilet, only to pass the living room where Carl played with Andre like a brother almost. Using tactics like peak-a-boo and crawling around to keep Andre occupied and intrigued. When she returned back downstairs, she found Rick looking at them in her exact same position as before.

"Natural," she whispered, stepping beside him and bending her head slightly to rest it on his shoulders.  
"Totally. Almost makes me wish me and Lori could have worked for him to have that experience with his own little sister/brother." Resting his head on top of hers, Rick sighed and closed his eyes for a second, thankful he could air thoughts like this without a tint of judgement in the air.  
Michonne almost found herself closing her eyes and imagining the way Andre growing and playing with a younger brother or sister, she smiled at the image, but felt a disturbance when Mike entered the picture of her imagination.

Quickly collecting herself, she raised her head from below Rick's slowly and whispered, "We should probably get outside, if we give them enough private time we may walk in on something I don't want to see."

Rick tapped her arm slightly and laughed, "Good point. I've been scarred enough by them."  
"I've been wanting to ask," Michonne began as they walked away, "how did you meet Shane?"  
"Well, about ten years ago when I was more handsome and less grey-"

"You're still handsome, but really grey, carry on." Rick cut his eyes at her before continuing.

"He came in a fresh twenty year old, and I a good thirty and we hit it off at the sheriff's department. From then on, he's been a real good friend."

Stopping just before the back door, Michonne's mouth dropped. "You used to work in law enforcement, how did I not know?"  
"Well, we've only ever mentioned hobbies and I thought you assumed my hobby was my work… so I just let it run to save you the embarrassment of being a terrible friend and not knowing enough about me." He winked before heading out the back door, leaving her following him with a taste of amusement on her tongue.

They passed the time eating and laughing, Michonne feeding Andre small pieces of food and hugging him, before he eagerly requested Carl by itching towards him, making Rick shake his head in envy. Andrea downed many one or two more bottles but still kept her wits about her, touching Shane inappropriately when she thought Rick and Michonne weren't watching – only to result in them shaking their heads at each other and bashing their glasses together at their synced precision.

'"Aren't you drinking Michonne? You've only had one beer Rick!"' Andrea had asked, sitting beside them with her head in her hands and her eyes drooping just a little. Rick and Michonne were both the designated drivers for their kids, so shook their heads and continued to prod Andrea for being ever so drunk. '"I shoooo am not!'" Which left Shane chucking beside her and looping his own sloppy hand over her, ending with him leaning in and kissing her.

Michonne was enjoying herself, the atmosphere. The care-freeness that these adults had beside her and the feeling she had missed after being home for so long. So isolated. She had shut herself off, leaving no room for growth, suffocating herself in the name of love and loyalty. _Look how it worked out.  
_ She knew of happy full time mums and she adored them, envied their ability to brag about how their marriage was so full of content and their days were endless amounts of fun. Michonne had had endless amounts of fun with Andre but… there had always been something, because she had that taste of a law firm, that sting of getting the right deal.

Rick rested his arm against her as he leaned in whilst laughing at something Andrea said and Michonne couldn't help but feel warm.

* * *

"He will wake if you move too quickly." Michonne whispered as Rick pulled Andre up from the couch. He was so smooth with him, transitioning him from the sofa to his arms ever so quickly and softly.  
"He sounds a lot like Carl. Who's unfortunately too big to carry, wake him up with a little shake." Michonne walked over to Carl, who was sleeping peacefully in the couch. She wondered if Rick slept in the same way, his lips somewhat pursed and his eyebrows almost pinched together.

"Carl," she stayed away from his face so he wouldn't jump awake. She hated that herself. "We've got to go hun." Slowly he stirred, rubbing his eyes.  
"Man, you guys were hanging out for a real long time." Carl yawned, beginning to stand. "Andre doesn't stop."  
Michonne patted him on the shoulder. "I agree, he keeps me up all the time. Let's go. Your father's just putting him in the car." As they walked together, Michonne gave him his hat that she had worn for majority of the evening. "Thanks for being cool with him, I've never seen him reach for someone other than me like that."

"Makes me think about becoming a paediatrician."  
"Woah, big words there? Where'd you learn that?" Michonne asked as they reached the car and Rick stood beside hers after putting Andre in his seat.  
Rubbing his eye, Carl smiled as he opened the passenger side door. "A girl in class. She told me that her mum was one. It sounds cool and I get along with kids."  
Michonne nodded, before hugging him. "It was nice meeting you Carl, I hope to see you again and wear your cap."

"You're cool enough to." With his seatbelt on, Carl leaned into the seat and rested his eyes, quickly beginning to snore.  
Michonne quietly but firmly shut the door and walked over to Rick who was standing proudly near her car. "He didn't even wake up once."  
She leaned forward, resting her arm on the room of the car so she could stand up and face him, having to inch her face up towards the sky where the moon pooled his face in white, making his iris glow. It reminded of the way the room reflected on the water in the middle of the night, daring and unashamed.

"You're good. Too good." She smiled, something growing in her stomach that didn't feel uncomfortable, but burned, all the way to her cheeks. Watching the soft expression on Rick's face, she cleared her throat and looked towards his car behind her. "Carl's a great kid, you've done a great job."  
Acting bashfully, Rick rubbed the back of his head and sloppily grinned towards the ground. "I've tried." He stepped towards her, his knees meeting hers as he let them slack to be more relaxed to rest on the car again.

"So… tomorrow there's a fair a little away from here. Since, uh, Carl and Andre have gotten along so well, I was thinking that we could go." He was looking intently at her, although he already knew the answer.  
She was becoming aware of the feeling of his knee softly placed on hers, coupled with the goose bumps that she wouldn't admit may not have been caused by an undetected breeze in the air.  
Separating the contact between them removed the magical feeling of the air, removed the fairies that were hidden beneath their clothes and in the corners of the eyes where it was hard to determine if they were really there.

"That'd be great Rick! I'm so glad they got along, poor little Andre needs a few more playmates, even if they are older than him by about 6 years."  
"I'm glad." Rick opened the driver door and laid his hand in front of him. "For you, have a safe drive home. No, really, I really want to go to this fair."

Breezing past him into the car, Michonne put on her seatbelt and watched him closely as he closed the door. The grin that brightened his face hadn't faded for most of the evening and she had found herself watching him more, trying to figure his brightness out.  
The air sat still and heavy between them, to the point where Michonne was sure there was something she was meant to said and had unknowingly missed the queue. It was that pause before you invited a new partner into your house after the third date, knowing where it would lead. It was that pause before taking a big risk that you knew would change you, even just a little bit.

But, her lungs needed air and she couldn't inhale like this. So ignoring the moderate burn in her stomach that had travelled to her fingertips and her legs, which she jiggled absent-mindedly on the mat near the pedals, Michonne removed her eyes from Rick's and turned the ignition. "It was great seeing you. I'll get the joy of seeing you tomorrow too, Rick. Goodnight."

Slowly leaning closer to the open window, Rick looked as though he was about to saying something, with the way that his eyebrows knitted together and a frown tugged at the corners of his lips. But it was gone with a flash and his grin was back as he rested his hands on the base of her open window. "Yeah 'Chonne, see you tomorrow."

"You know," she said, temporarily resting her hands from the real to poke him playfully on the arm. "I really need to get you a nickname."

As he swatted her finger and started to walk away from the car, he threw a look over his shoulder and said,

"You'll find it, it comes naturally."

* * *

 **A/N: I'm sorry guys, I love slow burns. Small things may or may not happen but as much as its frustrating to write and for you to read. I hope this has been a good interesting build up for everything. I have a plan for this story and I hope I can hold your interest long enough.**


	6. Chapter 6

155 days:

* * *

"Again Michonne?" Mike rested on the wall to peer at Michonne, folding his arms.

Mike's irrationality had made him even more present than before. It meant that he was there, standing at the door after she had returned last night, his foot tapping impatiently on their carpet as Michonne began to take off her shoes. "You sure you were with Andrea?" He had whispered to her when they finally got into bed. Michonne had simply turned to face the wall, putting her back to him and making an extreme effort to yawn and let him know that she was tired.

"Sorry, I never knew there was a limit on how much I can go out within a week." She sat on the sofa with Andre on her knees, his attention drawn to the tablet that played a cartoon.  
"I just thought the weekend would be our time to spend together," he pushed himself off the wall and walked towards her, sitting gingerly next to her on the couch. "We go to these sessions and we hardly speak about them once we leave. Isn't that part of it?"

"I don't know Mike, ask Rose the next time we go. But I have a feeling we'll just end up bickering about Rick or the actual reason we're going there." She sighed, looking at the tablet too. Rick's name had come up quite a lot. If her phone buzzed, that's who's name would drop from Mike's lips in an instant, same for a phone call or a simple notification. "Anyway Mike, I've told you. You have nothing to worry about. My social life can come as male friends or female friends – which I'm sure you find difficult to comprehend as it seems impossible for you to keep females as just friends."

Her intentional bite had its effect, causing Mike's hands to curl into a ball within his lap and for him to close his eyes, taking in one deep breath. "You know Michonne, it feels like we're never going to get passed this."

"You can get past anything Mike. Sweeping shit under the rug because it doesn't affect you. No, it only affected me so of course Michonne being the strong individual that she is-" her voice rises as she stands with Andre, which results in Mike following suit. "will just get over the fact that you've been up and under someone in such a short amount of time."

"It's been months." Mike spreads his arms, anger laced in his voice like a child who's had his toy taken away.

"It could be years and you'd still owe me more time. I'm going out, I'm leaving my phone here. It's still unlocked by the way, just in case you want to be all up in my business. You won't find a nickname in there, don't worry."

Opening the front door with her free hand she walks towards the car, trying to rock Andre against her as if to apologise for the tension he would have felt.

* * *

"Hey salt and pepper!" Michonne greeted Rick by running her thumb over the slight stubble that had appeared over night.

"Hey!" He swatted her hand away, then bashfully took his back to run over the sides of his face. "It's hard keeping up appearances when I'm out and about practically every day with you."  
Poking him in his upper arm, Michonne rolled her eyes. "And yet I'm sure you'd be sat in your underwear with your socks pulled right up, boring poor old Carl to death about stories you've told over and over again as a Sheriff, am I right?" She looked at Carl expectantly, who nodded without hesitation.

Rick laughed and shook his head.

He looked good admittedly. The sun basked them all in a light that photographers would die for, with a softness that illuminated faces and made them look youthful. Loud calls of playful children filled their eardrums, alongside individuals in stalls shouting about the gifts that could be won if only one lucky person would try and beat the never unbeaten game.  
Disrupting Michonne's focus from Rick's face as he looked around was the feeling of Andre struggling in her hands.

"Hey you, do you want Carl?" The insistent struggle seemed to be the answer, in which Michonne resorted to pouting her face as she let him go. "You know Carl, if my son starts preferring you permanently, this will be problem."

Beaming, Carl takes his hat off his head. "Swap for swap, right? So can we go on the merry go round Dad?" Rick's eyes quickly flash to hers and quickly receive a wink in return.  
"Don't go too far in front of us, okay Son?"

As they begin to walk, they fall in the same step. Looking around at the dozens of people pouring into the fair. "You know," Michonne began, "you're lucky I agreed to go to this thing with you. I have a real disliking for clowns that I'm currently overcoming just for you."  
Laughing, Rick put an arm around her shoulders, squeezing her into him. "Well, Michonne has a fear. Is that the only thing making you tense this afternoon?"

It was a casual reminder that they were indeed good friends. She had made an effort in the car to apply dark lipstick – obviously to express her mood – but place a smile on her face just so everything could run smoothly. There was no point bringing home to the outside world. Home was dark. And with the way the sun was blessing them today, who would dare to try and ruin it.  
Admittedly, she didn't know how to word what she was feeling. She didn't want to tell Rick of Mike's irrationality because she was comfortable where they were. For example, the fact that he felt good enough in her presence to place an arm over her shoulder would disappear if he knew that her husband seemed to think much more of the small interactions.

 _Mike's being stupid._ Michonne repeated to herself as she continued to lean into Rick. "Eh, the sheriff is on duty again I see."  
He chuckled so hard that her head bounced against the part of his chest that she found herself resting her head on. "Yeah and he's telling you to not change the subject now. What's up?"

"You really have to guess?"

Both their eyes followed Andre and Carl as Carl paid for the ticket to go on the Merry Go Round, taking a chance to look back once they were both sat on the horse and to beam. As it began to spin, Michonne let herself loosen up. "It's going nowhere, really. It's going in circles." She complained about him breathing down her neck, his inability to trust her wherever and whenever she went – to which she reassured with a white lie to Rick that he wasn't the source of it. Her tongue worked nonstop, like a track against the sound of the Merry Go Round. Sometimes she would jumble up the words because there was so much to say about the way he still found time to linger on Rose's legs when she crossed and uncrossed them, or the way they would tiptoe around conversations at home because Michonne was so sure he would get defensive and not give her a word in edge way.

"Do you really want to make it work?" Rick asked, his eyes a little bit glassy as he looked down at her and his jaw tighter than it had previously been.  
"I want… to move forward. I think that begins with me." She smiled up at him, taking note of how the sun hit the curls on the top of his head. Michonne ran her fingers through the top of his head, forcing him to shake his head once her fingers escaped and comb through his hair with his instead.  
"Well… what would you like to do to move forward?"

"A piercing. All I've got is two basic earlobes and I want something more."  
Rick raised his eyebrows, giving her a once over. "Where would that be?"  
Throwing her head back in a laugh, Michonne playfully slapped his shoulder. "Rick Grimes, if your mother knew just how in the gutter your mind was, she'd be disappointed. Never that extreme."  
"You never know with you Michonne. You seem like you surprise people a lot."

* * *

Carl sat facing Andre, who sat beside Michonne, who was facing Rick, as they ate burgers and fries from a stall on a nearby table. Carl was encouraging Andre to play with his food in the form of fry wars, as Rick was talking to Michonne about ways that he would change himself if he could.  
"I'd host my own art exhibition." He said, licking ketchup from the corner of his mouth right before taking a sip from his drink. Under the shade of an umbrella that covered the table, his eyes looked darker and the veins in his hands were permanent, working as his fingers did.

"You know, I'm a really bad friend because I haven't seen your paintings." Flicking a chip at him to get eye contact again, Michonne slurped her drink before speaking. "Why haven't you?"  
Shrugging his shoulders, Rick leaned onto the table a little, as if to keep a secret between them both. "Fear, maybe. Busy, maybe. I don't know, it's hard to pinpoint."

She liked his outlook. The inability to find the real answer meant that he was either being shy, being humble, or that the fear aspect was the real reason – he had mentioned it first. Smiling, she let the air sit between them at the table as she looked at him more. Took in the slight bags under his eyes, the way he scratched at the stubble of his beard whenever he looked around at anything but her, as if with her he was focused. Sometimes he felt more focused. The intensity of their conversations, the way they gave each other eye contact for as long as it was needed when they realised the other was talking about something deep that had tucked itself in the corner of their hearts from the last time they had seen each other.

In their friendship, so far it had been a dance that Michonne hated to like. In the worst kind of way, she liked the safe intimacy of it – _the ability for him to place his arm around me with no change in emotion or understanding of what they were._ It let her remind herself that she wasn't a Mike. That the time that she spent with Rick was for good company, not for anything else. Michonne was aware that she could lean into Rick and unlike with someone she loved, wouldn't search for his heartbeat to wonder if it matched with hers.

 _And yet you still smell his neck as if he's yours to check._

Her mind shocked her, the wandering comments that filled her head at times when she was rationalising and reasoning with herself made her wonder just what was going on in there.  
At the same time, Rick saw the flicker of surprise cross her face. It made him smirk and wonder just what she kept inside despite her being so open with him.  
Sometimes, he prided himself on being able to recognise the soft expressions that played as give away to her mood changes. There were tight lipped moments and scrunched eyebrows that he would look out for just to know where to steer the direction so it all dropped, allowing her to glow like the sunrise in the morning.

One of the greatest feelings for him was knowing that he was there to be a point to get away from everything. Rick was aware of how a not so easy flowing home life could taint things, find its way into your social life to a point where you don't even want one anymore because the people don't seem to want you around. The lowering of her shoulders every time she vented to him left his heart lighter in some form and he never wanted her to thank him for doing the simplest job for her – and if he really pondered on it while he lay awake at night, he was angry Mike couldn't do the job for her.

"Well Carl," Michonne smiled at him. "What'd you say we get some icecream to get that all down, huh?"  
"Totally! Come on Andre!"

"Hey Mr, you stuck in a dream world?" Flicking her finger lightly on Rick's forehead, Michonne snapped him out of his daze. Before she could grab her hand back, Rick grabbed her wrist and playfully tightened his fingers around it. "If you don't let me go, I won't give Carl his hat back and blame it on you."  
Sticking his hands up and letting her go, he laughed with her whilst standing up. "Let's go and get that icecream."

* * *

Michonne found herself sitting on a bench sitting beside Rick, featuring Carl who rested against his father with droopy eyes and Andre who was sleeping against her chest.  
A feeling of delight rested on her eyelids as she closed them and felt the warmth of Rick's bare arms on hers. It had been a nice day, good enough to make her forget about the situation at home. It allowed her to hear Andre laugh in response to a voice that wasn't hers or Mike's and that felt good.

At one point she found herself mesmerised by how blushed the sky looked and had whispered for Rick to look too, only to embarrass him to the same shade moments later when she said it reminded her of the way he looked when she caught him staring at a woman's behind.  
And when it got darker and they had walked to find a bench to sit on, the lights that hung above and brightened the fair filled his iris like fairy dust and made the outer rim of his blue eyes look like a glowing horizon.

"I think if we took a picture of your eyes in this light and put you on a dating website, you'd have way more girls that me to take to jazz." Michonne whispered, her eyes still closed and her head lulled back, the smell of hotdogs and popcorn filling her nostrils.  
The small shake of Rick's shoulders let her know he found humour in her statement. "You know 'Chonne, I don't really like dating websites. I like meeting people naturally, that that tech stuff just doesn't float my boat."  
She knudged him, careful not to wake Andre. "Sounds like you're talking from experience."

Looking over at him as a sigh left his lips, Michonne saw the slight wrinkles that formed as he smiled and reminisced in his mind. "Oh yeah, tried and failed and I'm never returning."  
Just then a man with a camera smiled in their direction and made his way over to them quickly. "What a wonderful couple," he whispered, looking at the kids asleep. "Mind if I take a picture? You can have it for two dollars and with the lights in the background… I'd say it's a bargain."

Rick opened his mouth to protest at the statement of being a lovely couple, but Michonne jumped in instantly, smiling and resting her head into the crook of his neck. "I agree, it's such a bargain." Her tone of voice told Rick to play along and so he did, smiling as the instant camera let a photo escape itself.  
Michonne fished delicately into her purse, rumbling Andre a little bit and swapped two dollars for a photo that she gave to Rick to shake. "Keep it too, let it be your muse for a painting. So when you do your first exhibition, you have even more to show."  
"Who said I'm doing an exhibition?"  
"I did. If I get my piercing, you get your exhibition up and running, right?" Her smile dazzled then and made something close to Rick's ribcage ache like a soft bruise.

Carl lay in the backseat of Rick's car parked right beside Michonne's, and Andre sat in his baby seat, his little chest rising and falling to a steady rhythm.  
They had been sat here for half an hour, talking among themselves about the way their children got on.  
"Carl's so good with him," Rick said, "He makes me so proud."  
"He has a great Dad, there's no way you couldn't be proud of him." Michonne places her feet onto the dashboard, having to bend her knees to make sure all of her can fit. A gentle flicker of Rick's eyes takes them down her legs, but she acts like she doesn't notice because it's normal. As much as they are friends, they are still opposites… or that was the excuse she made her in her head while a sly smirk rested on her face at the thought of him wanting to look at her. Even if they were just friends.

"I'm glad I found you." Michonne whispered, so softly at first that Rick had to ask her what she had said. Clearing her throat, she repeated her statement. "A while ago, I didn't think Andre would have a playmate that wasn't me. I didn't think I would be involved in anything other than school baking for goodness sake."

Rick absent-mindedly placed his hand on a spot a few inches above her thigh, causing a soft jolt in her leg that she was sure he had felt. "You're amazing, after losing all my friends I…" Rick faded out as Michonne focused on the faint smell of pine that filled the car. The jolt she had felt reminded her of what it used to be like with Mike, how wherever he would have touched her they would have found a way to make love then and there – restaurant bathrooms, bushes, the car.  
 _Don't be silly, it's just because you haven't been touched in a while._

Which was true. She hadn't been touched in a way that wasn't tainted by cheating by a person of the opposite sex in a long time. It caused her to try and reassure herself by rationalising that she may have felt that jolt if she had brushed hands with a waiter who was handing her the bill.  
But it still made her wander, made her feel somewhat guilty for letting her mind slip away as she watched Rick's lips moved and wondered if he thought about placing his hand there before he did it. Made her think about Mike's actions and if she repeated the same thing, would that make her even? Would it make her just like him? Or would her reasoning be sound?

"Michonne?" Rick was closer to her now, his face about half a rulers width away. "Your eyes glazed over as I was speaking. I'll never get soppy again if it's that bad." He laughed and backed away, his hand still in the same spot. "Well, I'm going to go. Gotta get that little rascal home for the drive up to his school early hours in the morning… I had to fight tooth and nail to keep him for Sunday night."

His hand left hers as he went for the door, a small hesitation in his shoulders before he finally pulled the handle to leave.  
Michonne watched him speechless, trying to grapple her thoughts together. "I'll-I'll see you next Friday, right? I'll get a new bar again."  
Closing the door, Rick smiled at her and nodded his head. "You always find the best ones."

In that moment, Michonne swore it was the wind because goosebumps trailed her arms as she watched his bowlegged walk back to his car and she held her breath just long enough for it not to be consciously noticeable to her. His blue eyes met her brown after he flicked the ignition on and Michonne could still feel his handprint on her leg.

It burned softly, like how a flame sways in the gentlest of breezes and she had felt it somewhere before. Somehow she had felt it.

Part of her wanted to feel that again.

Part of her felt ashamed.

Part of her wanted to go home and get rid of the desire by giving herself to Mike, as if to redeem her innocence.

* * *

 **A/N: Hey everyone! I realise I never reply to people's comments and responses and I'm sorry. I do read them all - and get excited on email updates about them - I just always forget to add an end note. If there are any questions direct PM me OR ask me on tumblr 'otpbabyformula2' (I had to recreate my account.**

But general consensus of things: It's slow burn, I will try to have longer chapters, I will update once a week - I went on holiday and it ruined my flow - but I'm starting university so I'll slot this in on a day just for you. Thank you for all the reviews.


	7. Chapter 7

**142 days to the present:**

Since their last interaction, Michonne had let a week go by without interacting with Rick. There was a form of shame deep in her gut that she couldn't quite justify being there, but knew that if she saw him again in the week it would somehow become further embedded within her.  
But, after seven days no contact and a text from Rick wondering where she was in his goofy own way, Michonne's stomach settled. She was reminded of who he was and who she was and how silly it was to think anything of them hanging out together, despite what the chemicals within her body were doing, despite the reaction to him touching her.

 _You just haven't been touched by something not tainted in a long time._

The day after she had come home from the fair with Rick she had texted Sasha the intricacies of the day, feeling intimidated by the confessions she made.

 _Michonne: Honestly it was just a different feeling to when Mike touches me. I just think I was really horny. A spider could have crawled up my leg and turned me on! it's that bad_

 _Sasha: Listen I'm about to tell you what you shouldn't hear because faithfulness and blah by the white chocolate chip cookie jar doesn't seem too bad and if you file for divorce sticking your hand in the cookie jar won't be morally wrong either_

 _Michonne: Why do I talk to you Sasha?!_

 _Sasha: Because I'm the little devil on your shoulder and you listen to the angel too much_

As a result of her previously mixed feeling, in the last session with Mike she had cowered back a little bit. Had let him say some things that caused her face to contort, but quickly released the expression just so he didn't press issues and try to get what seemed to be a rise out her.  
Rose had looked at her diligently throughout the session, her pen between her lips and her eyebrows furrowed whenever there was no rebuttal from Michonne.  
But, sitting here now, with her legs crossed and gleaming from the good slather of cocoa butter on her legs in her knee length skirt, Michonne was ready for it, ready to rip the gleam from Mike's eyes that she had seen in the previous week.

"I'm having to calm him down all the time over Rick. He's always hovering, watching, looking at my phone whenever it buzzes and-"  
"That's because _he's_ the one texting!" Mike flashed his eyes at her as he spread his arms wide, as if asking the air for an answer. Michonne's eyes rolled into the back of her head as she sighed.  
"I was talking, I'm sure Rose would agree that you shouldn't interrupt, am I right?" Rose nodded at both of them, her pen to her paper. "Anyway, he never gives me space. The minute I enter the door, he pounces. It's like you're scared I'm you."

"Okay, Michonne. We have to be careful. If you attach the act of cheating to him as a person and slash or his personality, it will make it difficult for you to forgive him. We have to find a way to forgive his previous acts and not let them tarnish his overall personality for you."

Tapping her nails on the arm of the sofa, Michonne watched Mike's hands on his lap and she began to burn. You see, it was easy to say to think of him and the act of cheating as two separate events, but they weren't. His hands may have touched the other woman how many times throughout the time he was cheating. They could have cupped her face, grabbed her ass, been placed on her hips while she was on top of him calling his name and it was too hard to separate Mike from the action because Mike did it. It wasn't just once. It was many times. He could have the name of cheater because it had happened over and over again behind her back.

What if Rick's hands were all over her like he thought they could be? What if her hands were all over Rick? What if the roles were reversed and Mike had to sit here and watch her hands? What if he had to think about the way her nails may have clawed into Rick's back, or her palms against his length running up and down to a rhythm that only Mike had been previously aware of having been with her for so many years.

"Why aren't you giving Michonne space Mike?" Rose commented.  
"I give her all the space she needs. I let her go out with Rick, I let her go to Andrea's-"  
"Mike, you can fuck yourself, you don't allow me to do anything. I do my _own_ things. Why? Because I'm a grown woman who had quit her job to be a full time mum for our child, only to be cheated on whilst doing so. Why would _I_ need permission from you, for anything, at this moment in time?" Her blood was boiling, heating her cheeks so that a tinge of pink could almost just almost be seen there.

"We don't spend any time together! You come home, you sleep, you don't even tell me about your day!" His eyes had widened as he sat forward in his chair and looked at her, waiting for an explanation as to why why why she wasn't 100% there for him. It irritated Michonne, made her want to sit him down and relay the situation over and over again to him. She needed time. Trust, like Rome, was not built in one day.  
"That's because every question you ask contains Rick, which I know is built out of the insecurity that I can be like you – oh, wait, I'm sorry, I'll try again. That I can repeat the separate event of cheating that you did." Michonne checked her watch and then shook her wrist. "We have five minutes left and I have nothing left to say, this session is going in circles." Cutting her eyes at Mike she leans forward to pick up her bag and place it in her lap.

"Fair enough Michonne. From an outside point of view, small things are required for this to get better. Especially with Mike's claim to you not communicating about your day – which I am aware you have a reason for Michonne. I would like to give you a task." Rose's eyes lingered on both of their faces for a reaction, but the same tight lipped faces stared back at her until she spoke again. "I would like you to go on a date, tonight, if that's possible."

The same faces still stared back at her as she explained her reasoning for such a decision, with only Mike towards the end of the session, showing a small raising of the corner of his lips.

* * *

 _Rick: Oh, so do you not want to go on the date?_

Michonne was in the bathroom, applying mascara with one hand and peering at her phone as she did so. After coming back from the session her and Mike had discussed where they wanted to go and who they could leave Andre with.  
"We can drop him to my mother's." She heard the excitement in Mike's voice as he said that and she almost felt delighted. But was reminded that this was a forced interaction, that he hadn't suggested it and probably wouldn't have ever suggested it due to his pride, that flowed like a river after he had been caught cheating. He wouldn't have opened himself to intimacy in this form, in a sit down dinner, unless he really wanted something now-a-days. It wasn't much like before.

"Do it before I get dressed because I'm not stopping over to see that woman."  
"That woman is my mother Michonne."  
"The same mother that didn't want you to marry me, I'll never forget."

 _Michonne: It seems horrible because he's my husband, but I know I shouldn't feel like I'm making an effort to do something with MY HUSBAND.  
Michonne: It's unnatural. _

Putting the phone down to put in her earrings, Michonne looked at herself in the mirror and smiled. Despite all the stress that the year has brought on her so far, you couldn't tell. There were some woman she knew that had lost it after realising their partner had cheated on them and it always had hurt her to see, because often the woman were worth much more than the men who did that to them. They were harder working, more honest, more loyal – obviously – and those traits are the best to have, yet the woman feel as though what they have isn't enough when it really is.

 _Rick: All couples get to a point where there's effort Michonne you just have to be sure you're doing it for the right reason  
Rick: It'll be easier if you let your guard down and bit and tell yourself that you're doing it for your marriage and not just Andre okay? Tell me how it goes_

Smiling Michonne switches her phone screen off and listens as Mike walks through the front door then up the stairs.  
"You ready?" He leans on the bathroom door to look her up and down as she applies her last layer of lipstick.  
" _You look so good Michonne, wow!_ " She mocked him, putting on a deep voice, slightly laughing as she did so.

Sometimes, she could forget the real reason why she was mad at him. Sometimes their old dynamic found it's way in the small things, when she wasn't paying attention to the nagging in the back of her mind that reminded her it should be a certain way, that her heart should be closed, that she shouldn't feel things towards him.  
Sometimes her mind reminded her that it wasn't realistic to be mad at him all the time and that he was, still, her Mike in a way.

"You know you look good Michonne," he ran his eyes down her shape and licked his lips. "You've always known."  
A slight heat raised in Michonne, which she tried to simmer, which she was ashamed of having because she knew what it meant.  
Clearing her throat she walked past him to the bedroom and picked her coat off the bed, "We should really get going."

* * *

He was trying hard and Michonne could tell.  
Mike had pulled out her chair before she sat down, had ordered the best wine and told her not to worry about anything because it was all on him – which always had irked Michonne due to her ingrained need to be independent and always take responsibility (whether that be by paying her way, or taking the lead in most things).

Mike raised an eyebrow as he tipped his champagne glass forward to touch hers and Michonne complied, the soft 'clink' of the glass bringing back memories of the nights before Andre that they would find time to do exactly this. Without it being a requirement.  
She watched him as he sipped from his glass, the way his lips captured the rim of the glass. If Michonne didn't focus, she found it was easy to fantasise over him – which in her mind was understandable because they had been together for such a long time he was the only man she fully knew. The only man she got to watch grow and turn more handsome over the years.  
She gulped the remainder of her champagne as she thought about him and what they hadn't done in so long. The lack of touching that had made her tingle and feel warm at the resting of Rick's hand on her leg.

"So, what would you like to talk about?" Mike cleared his throat as he put his glass down and watched her closely, lingered on her lips slightly as she licked the remainder of champagne from them.  
"Not much has happened today really," Michonne shrugged, looking around for the waiter with the food they had ordered a good twenty minutes ago. "Where is this food, I-"

"Listen, Michonne, I'm sorry for interrupting I know you hate it. But I… I really want you to know I'm trying." He leaned over a little more, grabbing her hand in his, trying to hold her gaze. "I value this marriage, as much as you don't think I do… I know my actions have shown I don't but… I'm here. I am. And I…" Mike took his hand and fumbled into his pocket, bringing out a small box. "I know how much you like pretty things, like yourself, and this is me showing you I'm willing to start over."

Conflicts began to rise within Michonne's lungs as her mouth parted to speak. Her denying his approach would mean she wasn't trying, it would mean she was the bad guy and that she didn't want this marriage to work for Andre anymore. She would be the sole purpose of them no longer working and previously it had just been all Mike… she didn't want that on her chest.  
But… but, she didn't know if she could trust him again as blindly as she did before. Yet she wanted to. She wanted to go back to the days where it was all rainbows and sunshine and her heart would burst open when he walked through the door with his smile, the smile she hadn't seen him use in the months since he'd been home.

His face, now, seemed anxious and tired and full of patience… like sitting here he finally understood her requirement for time. Finally.  
Taking the box gingerly from his hands, Michonne opened it, aware of the hurdle they would be over coming by her doing so.  
"It's beautiful Mike," she touched the diamond necklace within the box and smiled as the same old feelings found her heart.

It was hard, to look back up at him, because her heart said one thing and yet her mind said another and so did her body and she had to, she had to pick one to listen to.  
But the dim light of the room hit him in the right way, made his jaw look sharp and his chocolate eyes glimmer, taking her back to the days where they were just in love and looking forward to the future.

It was easy to forget the counselling. The gift made it even easier to forget the fact that this wasn't thought up by any of them and was just a mission set by a counsellor.

"It's beautiful, just like you Michonne."

And she knew she shouldn't fall for it, not so easily, not after she had stuck to her guns in the earlier session. But she did. She wanted to be touched and loved.

That was all.

* * *

Michonne lay next to Mike, her breath steady, his rough with snores creeping in. It had started heated, like teenage lovers who hadn't seen each other for two weeks. Pressed up against the front door, then the walls of the stairs, until they fumbled out of clothes and Mike found her wetness and grumbled her name at the same time.  
She had been filled, forgetful in the moment, until right next to the end where she was aware she was nowhere near finishing, but the tell tale signs of Mike's heavy breathing meant he was nearly there.

They separated, a smile on Mike's face of accomplishment and a frown in the dark on Michonne's. She didn't turn to cuddle him but instead turned to face away from him, almost as though she was ashamed of the act that had just happened between a husband and a wife.  
Mike sighed loudly before turning over to fall asleep as Michonne had stared into the dark until now, when she decided to slowly creep out of bed and go to the bathroom.

The light blinded her, causing her to squint before she found her reflection in the mirror and stared down at her body. She had been touched, but there was no after effect, there no burn like the one that had been left over with Rick. It made her worry, made her doubt her judgement.  
Michonne felt blind for the first time in her life, she didn't know what pieces of the jigsaw were meant to fit together.

If Rick were to put his hand on her tomorrow or any day after, would the burn still be there? Are her hormones now satisfied? Michonne's eyes widened at how easily she was ready to test the theory, to find a way to see him just to know if her last reaction was simply a result of evolutionary chemical reactions or something.

 _We're thinking too much Michonne._

She shook her head and left the bathroom.

What was she doing?


	8. Chapter 8

136 days to the present

 _Rick: I can't make it tonight, sorry this is short notice but something came up with Carl so I gotta get him a little earlier than I normally do._

 _Rick: Will make it up to you I promise_

 _Michonne: You know telling me three hours in advance isn't short notice I'm not even dressed yet_

 _Rick: Great so I don't feel any guilt_ _?_

 _Michonne: You should try and feel a little for bursting my hopes and dreams for today_

 _Rick: As I said I'll make it up to you I promise_

Putting down her phone on the arm of the sofa Michonne leaned back into the cushions as she watched Andre play at her feet.  
What would she do with the rest of her day? Thankfully Mike had a lunch do so she wouldn't have to be in his presence – which she was aware may have been a smug one if he found out she was no longer going out with Rick.  
Yet, he would never offer to go to a jazz bar with her instead.

The tell-tale sign of Andre's drooping eyes told her that he was soon ready for bed, as she had fed him a little over twenty minutes ago.  
"You sleepy baby?" Michonne cooed, moving to scoop him up into a soft embrace and kiss his forehead. "Let's get you straight to bed."  
As she fussed over Andre, she thought about how she felt in regards to having another child with Mike. If you had asked her a year ago, she would have sprung on the idea of giving Andre a younger sibling to enjoy just as much as her and Mike would have but now… now she was having doubts.  
The idea of relying on another form of birth control other than the pull out method – which had been a go to since the birth of Andre – seemed to be ever-present in her mind and for that she felt guilty.

Michonne partially worried that sitting Mike down to talk about her starting birth control, or in fact him covering himself up during the act, would do more harm than good even though the thought had plagued her since the other night.

Kissing Andre's forehead she thought about the other night. About how rushed it felt in her memory, how unreal it felt also. Like she had only been part of it for a split second and snapped out of the daze towards the end.  
When she had told Sasha, a worrying pause made the phone call seem even longer than it had to be. "I don't have much advice to give you Michonne, but maybe it's just a sign."

Michonne had pondered on that, _a sign._ A sign of what? Sasha wouldn't emphasise and the conversation teetered to a slow halt until Abe's voice in the background ushered Sasha away from the phone.  
Switching off the light and closing Andre's door ever so quietly, Michonne wondered what she could do with the remaining time on her hands. Call Mike? Maybe see what he was doing? The empty echo of her ribcages didn't respond to the idea at all so she knew it was a waste of a thought.  
Truthfully, she hadn't ever invited Andrea around and looking at the time she would either be loved up in Shane or waiting for him to finish a shift.

Retrieving her phone from the arm of the sofa Michonne quickly sent a message.

 _Michonne: Girls night? I have wine if you come for a little while!_

 _Andrea: How can I say no to wine? Be there as soon as I can._

After a few glasses had made their heads heavy Andrea and Michonne put their glasses down to face each other, the soft glow of warm alcohol comforting them.  
"So tell me about Shane, really, you make all these jokes about him and his abilities but you never go into full detail." Michonne asked, raising an eyebrow at the rose colour that painted Andrea's cheeks in an instant.  
"Alright, alright." With a chest full of hiccups Andrea leaned forward. " He's (hiccup) amazing because you would thinking looking at him he would (hiccup) be really hard, but he's (hiccup) not, he's really gentle and I… love it." Andrea holds a finger up as she holds her breath, the only way she's know to get rid of hiccups. When she was sure that they'd gone, she lowered her hand and continued to speak. "He just knows how to get me to places, others have also, but with him there's more attached to it… there's more passion so everything feels like a nine out of eight."

"Only you would pick a random number as eight to explain something Andrea." Michonne began to fill her glass again as she joked, her chest growing heavy from the confession Andrea made so easily. The damp moss that covered her originally light personality was sensed by Andrea, who placed her hand on top of Michonne's that was controlling the bottle.  
"Hey, you're meant to excited for my fulfilment, not dulled by it. I can let you borrow Shane if Mike's not pulling his weight… but for a price! Like you doing all my work at the office for a year!" Andrea rocked herself as she laughed, but was unimpressed by the little giggle that left Michonne's lips. "Really Michonne, what's wrong?"

Giving her a few moments to catch herself, Michonne raised the glass to her mouth and took a gulp of wine. _Liquid confidence,_ she thought, _liquid confidence.  
_ "Mike's not pulling his weight." She felt guilty saying it almost and so tried to salvage him. "No, he is. Maybe. I don't think I'm pulling my weight, I'm not fully… involved."  
Andrea watched as Michonne's shoulders tensed with thought. "You know Michonne, no one would blame you for it."  
"But it's been a long time, I should be processing things at least a little bit by now."  
Placing a hand between Michonne's shoulder blades, Andrea began to rub her back. "Don't give yourself time. You've been giving him hell about giving you time, so you give yourself time."

"It's not just… just time. It's him. I can't dissociate him from the act and…" Michonne sighed, the confession at the tip of her tongue. "I'm getting worried about myself, my head space. Like two weeks ago Rick and I went to the fair and he placed a friendly hand on my leg – yes friendly Andrea, we're not like that, don't give me that look – and there was this burning. Like a tingling. And I… I didn't get that with Mike yesterday."

The rubbing on her back ceased for a millisecond, something she was sure Andrea didn't think she would recognise, but she had. In the moment however, Michonne's heart felt lighter almost, as if she had now told two people enough of her secrets and was done with holding them so closely to her guilt hanging ribcages.  
"You two… are something else. You guys get along like a house on fire and I haven't seen him get along like that with anyone since he's got her." Andrea patted her back, smiling almost. "But I'm worried what you two may do."  
"Nothing, absolutely nothing because it was silly hormones playing up from the lack of fucking Mike and I had done. Rick doesn't ever come onto me either, and I know men." Michonne swatted away at Andrea's statement and took another gulp of her wine.

"I don't know. Just don't do something you may regret… and I say may because of your predicament at the moment."  
Michonne's bones tensed almost defensively. "I'm not a cheater Andrea."  
"I know Michonne."  
"I wouldn't do anything with Rick, he's just a friend."

"Honey, I'm going to say this in the nicest way possible and I know the alcohol is in both of us but… with the way you said friend, you didn't sound too convincing."

* * *

135 DAYS TO THE PRESENT:

Michonne's ass buzzed as soon as she picked up the towel to begin folding it.  
"Hey 'Chonne, I was just calling to see that you weren't upset or angry with me." She could tell that he was scratching his beard down the phone as he said so, and she envisioned him pacing back and forth with an acute twitch in his foot after every bow-legged stride.  
"I don't know," she bent her neck to hold the phone between her shoulder and her ear so she could continue folding. "I'm deciding whether I can show both emotions at once."

Rick chuckled down the phone. "I'll let you get away with calling me a terrible nickname since you can't seem to come up with one."  
"I thought it was meant to come naturally with best friends?" Michonne joked into the phone.  
"Oh so I got promoted from friend that listens to jazz to best friends? What reward do I get?"  
"That's it Rick, nothing else."

They bantered for a few more minutes until Rick cleared his throat. "So is Mike around?"  
Michonne shook her head into the phone as if Rock was able to hear. "No, he's gone to the shops with Andre, why?"  
"I just… wanted to know how the other night went."

She had managed to avoid the conversation with him, restarting conversations from scratch whenever they were close to fizzling out and becoming deeper than the surface. But here now, she couldn't just say something new in a heartbeat or it would come off as avoiding it right in front of him. "I don't know Rick, things happened but… we don't need to talk about it. I took your advice, I'm trying to open up."

"In the emotional way? Or both ways?" They both laughed at his crudeness until Michonne reprimanded him by reminding him of his mother. "You know, she'd like the way that you always remind me of my homely manners."  
"Is that an invitation to meet her?" Having finished folding the clothes, Michonne walked with the basket on her hips to her bedroom and began to put them away.  
"We have a barbeque all the way in the summer if you still are my best friend by then – it's totally exclusive. Which reminds me! I met an old friend, called Jessie."

Michonne paused as she put away the clothes and went to sit down on the bed, smirking as she did so. "Jessie? A woman? You've finally managed!" Clapping to herself in response to Rick's groan down the phone Michonne rolled off the bed and onto the floor.  
"Ha ha Michonne, you're very funny." He sighed before continuing. "I got her number and she invited me out for a meal… she had a thing for me in college, I'm not too good at reading into things so I don't know if it's still there."  
The seriousness in his voice meant that something on the left side of Michonne's body lowered, dragged her more towards the earth's centre as it dawned on her that he may in fact be entirely serious. "Oh… so this is… serious."  
"Well what else would it be? I'm not getting any younger." He huffed a laugh down the phone as Michonne imagined him looking into a mirror at his grey hairs. "But I have a favour to ask, for later, and as I've recently moved to best friend status it means you have to do it anyway."

"You're babbling Rick, get on with it." Michonne rolled her eyes.  
"Can you come on a date, later tonight… well it's not a date. I'm taking her to jazz. She says she likes it and I know you do. You once upon a time said Mike did. The atmosphere will be good for me, to make a good impression so – I'm waffling, just say yes."

"What happens if I don't say yes?" Michonne played, ignoring the acute feeling of numbness she felt in places she couldn't exactly name and locate.  
"I'll denominate myself to good friend you can go jazz with only every fornight."  
Gasping through the phone Michonne pretended to be shocked. "You wouldn't dare, would you?"

"Only if you don't say yes."

* * *

"Mike, I have something to ask of you and I need you to agree to it, no matter what you may feel. It'll be good for us both." Michonne wiped her hand on a kitchen towel as she turned to face him, pressing herself into the kitchen counter. "I need you to go on a date with me."  
A smile broke out onto Mike's face as he stepped towards Michonne. "Of course baby, that's not a thing, I think the other date went-"

"With Rick and a female friend of his, just to help him out." The drop of Mike's smile only phased her a little bit. "Hey, you interrupted me, I wasn't done." Still aware of the pursed lips that Mike held, she placed a hand on his shoulder. "I think it's a good idea because it will give you the unnecessary closure that you need and it will give you both a chance to meet each other."

Mike pressed his hand to his forehead and squeezed. "Okay. Okay. But don't go expecting me to be his best friend." Mike stepped closer as Michonne put her hands up in defence, as if to say she would expect nothing more from him. Leaning in so slowly Michonne wasn't initially aware, Mike reached for her lips before hesitating and find his way to her cheeks to plant a soft kiss on them.  
His eyes met her in a question. "Do you think our counselling is working now?"

Michonne didn't allow her eyes to trail from his as she knew that would be a sign of deceit and she wouldn't lie, she couldn't lie, as good as it felt to know that he thought so positively about them. "You've made an effort Mike, it's nice."  
"That wasn't directly answering the question Michonne."  
She sighed, looking down towards their feet and taking into account that their thighs touched in the little distance between them. Directly answering the question with a yes would have been a lie. Did she think he was changing due to the counselling? Yes. Did she think she was changing due to the counselling? No. Maybe it gave her more confidence to say how she felt without holding back but she still… she still wasn't there yet. The sex wasn't there yet and neither was her heart. Or her body.

"Do you love me Michonne?" Mike's voice broke towards the end of her name and it made her heart gasp at the sound of it. There was a gentle sincerity, a gentleness that she had not been witness to for more than a few times since they had gotten back together.  
Michonne had found herself to be conflicted so many times during these months, from the anger, to the sadness, to the hurt, to the shame she felt after she had been done with him in her mouth or her legs… or the same curiosity she had felt after Rick's touch burned her.

"That's a heavy question." Michonne admitted, turning towards the counter to not have to see the look in his eyes. Pressing into her, Mike ran his hands over her arms, that spiralled with goosebumps at the intensity of the situation.  
"You used to say it so easily Mich I-" Her arms locked before he could finish and the tension in them brought the air to a thickness that stopped him from speaking.  
"Don't Mike, not now."

Sighing, he stepped away from her and rested onto the kitchen counter beside her. "You said it would be good for us. Why do you need to go?" His voice was judgemental now, harsher than the one he previously had.

 _So I can stop wandering about his stupid touch if I'm being honest and get my body back into the right state of mind._

"Because he's a good friend and I owe him one." Walking towards Mike, Michonne placed a gentle hand on his chest and took in his heartbeat as if to apologise for not telling the truth.

* * *

Letting the water run over her body Michonne found herself in an awkward state of emotion. Finding out about Jessie had left a funny taste in her mouth and she was unsure of where it had come from. She had tried to rid it by inviting Mike into the shower, forcing an intimacy that wasn't there when she had cut him mid sentence.  
The shape of his mouth on her didn't satisfy her enough so she had gotten down on her knees to take him in, a quiet exchange that meant he left earlier than her as he finished.

Now here she stood, beginning to soap her body and running her hands over her breast in a circular motion. They hadn't been treated nicely in a long time. It was like everything was a rush whenever they completed an act. A rush for Mike to get off her because she was sure in all of his guilt some empathy shone through and thought that if he stayed for far too long, she would become bored and think and think of where his body had been.

Which she did.

Splashing her face with the warm water, Michonne recalled the feeling in her chest at the reveal of Jessie and the tone that Rick had taken when it all came down to it.  
Sure, she was happy for him. But something didn't feel right… it almost didn't feel genuine. Questioning herself as her eyes closed and let her escape into darkness, she almost began to wonder too deeply down a rabbit hole of emotion.

Why couldn't she pinpoint her state of mind? It worried her, she was usually so good at it.  
"Maybe I-" She began to tell herself and yet was interrupted by the sound of Mike's shout from the bedroom.  
"Hey Mich, we gotta go soon!"

And all at once the thought was forgotten.

* * *

 **a/n: Hey guys,I know these chapters aren't buzzing with excitement but I promise I have good plans for this, I just need to story build a little more and poof! DRAMA EVERYWHERE.**

 **I've updated with two chapters because I've gone two weeks without posting and ya'll deserve it. Thank you for reading and I hope that you stick with me.**


	9. Chapter 9

**135 days until the present:**

* * *

Michonne heard the southern twang in the air before she turned the corner and it made her stomach tight. The sturdy walk of Mike behind her compared to the slacked, leaning casualness of Rick made her wonder just how the two would interact – more so how Mike would react in the environment.

She had paid close attention to his jawline as they had driven here. Saw the jump in his shoulders when her phone buzzed when they were right around the corner, running a few minutes late.  
"He really like to stick to his timing, doesn't he?" Mike joked, his voice unsteady, his hand falling on the top of Michonne's knee.  
"I think he's just nervous." Michonne had said, sighing as she indicated to turn right into the parking lot.

 _You should have just said no Michonne, it's your own fault you're feeling this way._

Her palms were sweaty and she casually wiped them on her black jeans. Turning back an inch to take Mike in one more time and determine his expression, Michonne collected herself, preparing a smile on her face.

"…and then I ran into the room to see Carl, scissors and a bunch of hair missing!" Rick's statement was followed by a high-pitched laughter that Michonne turned the corner to see belonged to a blonde-haired woman. Her dough filled cheeks lay on Rick's arm and her rounded eyes peered up at him as if in wonder.  
"Did I just miss the Carl scissors story?" Michonne sarcastically interjected, bringing her arms out automatically for a hug and flinching as she remembered that Mike was there. However, this didn't seem to phase Rick. He gave her a quick hug with a grin on his face, as if to convey his thanks to her, and stepped away to take in Mike quickly but effectively.

"Hey Mike, Rick, Michonne talks a lot about you." _He's bluffing for me. How sweet._

Michonne held her breath as Rick put his arm out for a handshake. She didn't dare to look at Mike, at his posture, as if she would see the bolts working in his head and assessing the situation for so long that the extended hand would become awkward.  
"Rick, not heard much about you." There was a taint in the words, despite them being said as cool as the wind in Autumn. It chilled Michonne, only a little bit, and made her make a mental check note to reprimand him on the way home.

It was Michonne's turn for introductions, and although this one was meant to feel like nothing, it felt like something. Her initial instinct had been caution. What was this woman like? Did she possess any traits that Rick could associate with Lori? How much did he know about her and her doings and her hobbies? How did he know she even liked jazz?  
The woman stared expectantly at her, looking like something caught between a rock and a hard place. Her wide eyes almost made the interaction more intense than it needed to be.

"Michonne," it was Michonne's turn to extend a hand, that resulted into being pulled into an automatic hug and a squeal that just about tore the strings in her eardrum.  
"It's nice to meet you! I hear you like jazz and that's how you know Rick? I like jazz too!" She clapped enthusiastically as they parted, resulting in Michonne's cutting her eyes at Rick, who simply responding by shrugging and mouthing 'energetic I guess'.

"Should we go in? Sounds good in there." Mike stated, a spectator to the barely spoken conversation between Rick and Michonne. Waltzing towards the door, he opened it, allowing Jessie to walk in, followed by Rick and then Michonne.

The atmosphere of the café made Michonne tingle, simply because the boozy smell of sticky cider, cigarettes and the soft chatter always made her feel like more. She almost closed her eyes at how calming it felt, thinking about how many months it had taken her to get to such a stage where all these components would influence her way of being.  
A quick clearing of Mike's throat disturbed the picture and she was reminded that tonight, she was sharing this café with not one, but two people – she was sure an instantaneous cough and escaped Jessie just as they entered the door – who wouldn't appreciate the environment they were in.

"So what table should we sit at? It's empty!" Jessie looped her arm around Rick's, drawing him into her. A quick flicker between that image and Mike made her feel guilty almost, which she tried to overcome by flashing a delicate smile at him as if to thank him for being there sincerely.

"That one!" Rick and Michonne stated in unison, sheepishly blushing in the slightly dimmer than normal pre-show lightly.  
They were both aware of how they would have to act this evening, and it was not their usual selves. It was a watered down version, a version that meant they didn't look exactly like the best friends they were. There was not meant to be unison, or secret comments that the others with them couldn't understand. If a jazz player came on stage that they didn't like, they couldn't whisper about separate things between them because it would seem rude. Michonne couldn't tease Rick about his inability to stare at a girls ask for more than a flicker of a second, and Rick couldn't tease Michonne about her inability to get pass two glasses of whatever alcohol they drunk for the night – even if he offered to drop her light weight home at the end of the night.

They were aware, even during the phone call that created this scenario, that what they were and how comfortable they were would influence their own situations. The sticky situation that was Michonne's marriage and the meeting of Jessie, would mean that it would be intimidating – although they were both so adamant that nothing would come of it.

Rick contemplated Jessie as they seated themselves at the table, wondered about the blonde twirling her straightened hair in between her fingers and how she always looked in awe about…well…anything. It was hard to figure out if he found that endearing, or if it was just because of how different it was to Lori- who, in Rick's mind, was more straight forward about anything and everything, never leaving a second for a pause of a thought.

The atmosphere at the table was much more still than the one surrounding them, which resulted in a, once again, conjoint statement of "Drinks?" from Rick and Michonne, that resulted in Mike's eyebrows scrunching just enough for Michonne to wonder how far her long legs would let her shrink down into the seat.  
An awkward chuckle left Rick's lips as he stood up, jumbling over words about getting the very best drinks for everyone and the space of time he'd be gone for. Michonne pretended not to notice Mike's eyes following in him, but made a note on placing a hand on his knee intensely when she could tell he was fighting his bodies reaction to get up and 'have a conversation' with Rick.

"So, how did you meet Rick?" It was Mike who asked the question, leaning in as if it was about to be the greatest story known to man. Michonne couldn't understand his tone, how tainted it was with something she couldn't put her hands on – probably because this scenario was new to them both.  
 _But is it really a big enough scenario Michonne?_ She questioned herself, wondering why she was being so… cautious. What was there to hide? All this watering down was simply to make sure that Mike's suspicions were bought down in flames of justice and that Jessie and Rick could have a nice time together – maybe even result in the ass that she teased him about so regularly.

"Yeah, how'd you meet?" Michonne chimed in, smiling and placing her head in her hand. Mike shuffled uncomfortably against her, possibly upset that his prodding didn't get the response out of her that would confirm all of his beliefs.

"I don't know if he told you, but we went to the same high school. Funnily enough, I had a major crush on him back then… but it never came to anything, because, you know… him and Lori had begun and were rolling." Her eyes flickered over to him at the counter, a soft lust coated the rim of her eyes and it was weird for Michonne to see it happen directly in front of her – usually in the dimmed lighting all you'd see is the flick of a women's head in Rick's direction. "Then I recently managed to bump into him, he was at a farmer's market with Carl and I pretty much asked him on the spot."

"Oh, he told me he invited you down." Michonne glanced as Rick walked through, holding four drinks between both hands, "Ah, my favourite," she sighed as he placed them down. Flashing a quick smile at her, then at Mike, he sat beside Jessie and took his drink as well. Rick performed his typical beginning of mixing the ice with a straw for a few seconds before taking a sip.  
Peering at him as he done it, Jessie began to copy the act. "You shake the ice too?" Rick said in a quite surprised tone, to which Jessie smiled, nodded and took a sip.

The pairs neatly seclude themselves now, Mike trying to engage with Michonne, asking her about the bar and it's nights, the themes.  
"This isn't the only bar we go to Mike, that's why I'm late home most of the time." When he paused for a considerable amount of time, Michonne smirked into her glass. "You didn't think of that at all, did you?" A quiet kiss teeth left Mike's mouth as he stretched his arms and looked around Michonne.

Her attention diverts to Rick and Jessie, his body language could be read from a mile away. His straightened back said that he was listening but restraining in some places, he was not as involved – this was supported by the way her mouth ran a mile a minute and in Rick's own polite way, would receive a nod and a smile in return. Rick's ears were burning however, a heated pink against the rest of his face that made her want to embarrass him in front of everybody just for having it. But she could tell as she thought of the ways to tease him that Mike had finally come back to watching her, so glanced at the time on her phone and dragged her eyes on the stage in time to see the musicians removing their instrument from their cases.

"It's starting!" Jessie's gleeful statement rang against the walls, resulting in looks and 'hushes'. The cut of Michonne's eyes was as a result of doubting whether this girl really knew anything about jazz or the atmosphere associated with it at all. Rick looked bashfully at Jessie then Michonne, just in time for her to catch him doing so before the lights dimmed far too much.

* * *

Mid way through the performances of the night Michonne excused herself to the bathroom and heard the screeching of a chair against wood just moments after. Just before entering Michonne allowed herself time to turn around and face Mike, who stood there with a hand to his neck, staring eagerly at her chest.

"You know Michonne," his eyes found hers as he stepped towards her, "maybe I was wrong. I've been giving you so much grief over him and he's really nothing to worry about."  
Michonne looked up at him then, questioning his motives and why it felt to claustrophobic all of a sudden in the small hallway between the toilets. She could hear the chatter of both sexes in their significant toilets and worried about the scene that would unfold as Mike rubbed the back of his finger against the top of her arm.

"Mike, did that one drink get to your head?" Her tap on his arm let him know that she wasn't fully there in a soft way, causing him to step back, dejected. She could tell by the way that the veins pressed towards his neck that he wasn't happy, but what could she do for him? Maybe… a long time ago, before Andre, she would have snuck him into a stall for a quickie and left shameful but glowing, with her lipstick slightly smudged and on his neck.  
But here they were, three years later, with a river between them, full with red hurt that couldn't be ignored and didn't part for Michonne to walk across but instead threatened her with an undercurrent that would wipe her off her feet.

They parted ways and went to their separate toilets, Michonne only leaving once she had finished and was sure Mike would have already made it back to the table – she didn't want it to look like something it wasn't and she didn't know why she would feel so ashamed if it did.

When Michonne returned to the main room the lights had brightened for the interlude and the voices of people rung in her hot ears as she moved her hips to sit gracefully in the seat.  
Rick's eyes peaked towards hers from Jessie's, a quick glimmer to ask if she was okay, to which she responded to with a small wink and head nod.  
"Well, I feel like another drink. Anyone else?" Rick shook his head, but Jessie nodded enthusiastically, jumping out of the chair as Mike began to stand up.  
"I'm really excited to see the menu, Rick here says that they have so much and that him and Michonne have probably tried all the drinks possible from different café's. Let's catch up to them!" Her high pitched giggle almost made Michonne grind her teeth, but did not stop her from once again cutting her eyes at Rick with a pursed lip as if to ask him just what he was doing.

There was a pause in the air that hung heavy, and a small but distinct fist of unspoken negative energy amongst them that Rick had been trying to zone out the whole evening. He recognised it upon meeting Mike, the stiffness of the handshake, the glares Rick had felt when he was feeling himself in the music the same way he and Michonne rocked – a gentle side to side sway and the odd clicking of the fingers that were always on time with each other.  
He wasn't aware of why it was such a thing, Michonne had never mentioned Mike would be so… off with him. There would be no reason to be off with him in the first place, that's probably why Michonne had never mentioned.

Here they were, two adults, who enjoyed the same thing. Of course Rick had thought about the fact that they were opposite genders, but it was immature to think that men and woman couldn't just be friends, even if he did find Michonne attractive on some nights. Admittedly, sometimes they would walk into cafes together and the stares from other men almost made him want to flirt blatantly with her, like he was hers, just to feel what it felt like to have someone that everyone else wanted but couldn't touch.  
However, when he thought in that way, he'd quickly refrain himself – his previous marriage had shown him just what _little_ attention from external sources could do in a marriage, he couldn't imagine what _a lot_ could do.

As Mike and Jessie walked towards the bar, Michonne's mouth opened.  
"So Jessie, huh? She have any kids?" Her slender arms folded against her as she leaned back into the chair, watching him.  
"You have the lawyer eyes going on, what's up 'chonne?" A grin had appeared on his face, mirrored with a grimace on Michonne's.  
"Just checking out the bait you're going to bring home to your Mother, we gotta be careful, remember? She wants a lady." Placing her arms on the table, Michonne leaned forward, a playful smile on her face. "You really like her?"

His face played up then. His cheeks flared up as he ran a hand through his hair, then over his growing beard. "I've been lonely 'chonne, is it even about liking at this point? It's been so long since I've been… with somebody. Comfortable even. This isn't comfortable, but… I know she liked me before and she still does now so that may make the process… easier."  
She watched as he rubbed the back of his neck, whilst she played with a napkin on the table. They watched each other intently then, their eye contact not breaking, a question being formed between them that neither of them knew how to ask.

Her instinct was telling her to drop it, to not open the waters that could create tension between them, and for what reason? Michonne wasn't sure. All she knew was that something in her chest didn't feel right, like a really hot day in the beginning month of winter, it was just not right.  
The beats of her heart quickened as she realised she couldn't figure out the answer to her problem right then and there, but she was… angry? No. Confused? Maybe. Irritated? A little. But why?

"Are you settling?" It came just before his blue eyes were about to give up the war of staring into her brown ones, in which he had almost fixated on the way the light hit her in a way that made the rim of iris shine with a soft glow.  
His initial reaction was shock, expressed by the widening of his eyes and the soft parting of his lips. Then anger, but not full blown anger, the kind that simmers and keeps you awake at night until you wake up the next morning and think about better and more important things.  
In her circumstance, could she talk about settling? Why did she seemed so opposed to Jessie? This was the first time in the whole of their friendship that Rick couldn't find a way through the fog that was Michonne's mind, it made him uneasy. It made him wish Jessie and Mike weren't there so they could be open and honest and raw.

Rick ran his tongue over his teeth before answering, leaning forward so he was closer to Michonne's face that before. "Are you?" It was so short, so simple, but it nestled its way between the vessels of Michonne's body. Made her stutter and stumble and want to give him a definitive answer as Rick's eyes searched her, undressed her to her rawest form of fakery that was just as well expressed outwardly when she smiled as Mike returned to the table.

Michonne wasn't sure why but her the left side of her chest panged slightly from thereafter.

* * *

 **A/N: Part of me now regrets using Jessie purely because I could have used Rosita instead to spice things up. I'm sorry guys, you're going to have to power through this with me. HOPEFULLY we won't have to endure this for too long.**

But as I've said I like slow burns and realistic things. People may have a disliking for Rick's approach to the situation - a.k.a. being lonely - but I think it's a very realistic thing to do and that's why I mentioned it. **Any criticism I WILL BE HAPPY WITH - TELL ME HOW TO IMPROVE.**

 **(P.S. WHOEVER FOLLOWS ME ON TUMBLR, I LOST MY OLD ACCOUNT 'OTPBABYFORMULA' SO NOW I'M 'OTPBABYFORMULA2')**


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10:

"You know, even I wouldn't have been able to convince you to do this, what's so special about Rick?" Sasha prodded as she pulled into the parking lot, making sure to flick a quick glance in Michonne's direction before turning off the indicator.  
"Don't get too ahead of yourself, you're crazy, he's not." Scoffing at her reply, Sasha put the car in park, the engine eventually settling.

"So you're sure? I mean, this is brave, for someone like you?"

And it was the truth. Pristine Michonne would have never been caught doing anything other than what was right. Her last rebellious act she could think of was locked her hair – simply because it took her away from the majority, and she liked that very much.  
But, ever since the other night she had acquired an urge to be more, to be drastic and spontaneous. Admittedly it had been rumbling beneath the layer of her skin, ever since her independence had kicked in through full time work and going out and about to jazz café's – she just didn't want to acknowledge that change occurring within her ways then, because she was afraid of what it would mean.

Ultimately though, the most influential aspect was Rick himself and his burst of energy when they had spoken about the things that they hadn't done but would have liked to.  
"I'm sure," Michonne grabbed her bag, "Let's go."

* * *

Michonne sat looking at all the potential piercings she could have within the next half an hour or so.

"You know, I want something drastic, but subtle enough for me to hide at work."  
"Well I mean your lady parts are always subtly hidden so…"

Michonne smiled and shook her head, "This is why you weren't influential! I'm going for the ears Sasha, the ears." Scanning the page, she thought about what would happen when she got home with an unexplained piercing in her ear. _Nothing too drastic, an interest and maybe a questioning of where this came from… Mike's mind would probably twist it into something it's not._

"So how is the counselling going?" Sasha asked, flicking through a nearby magazine that had been previously on the chair. Her cheeks glowed ever so softly in the morning light and Michonne felt even more happy than she had previously because it was a gentle reminder that Abraham made her happy.

Hesitating, Michonne reread the same information about a conch piercing. "It's going... okay."  
Sasha didn't respond, dramatically turning the page and heaving a sigh afterwards. "Honestly, it's going okay. Slow… but okay."

"You would have thought with all these weeks that have gone by you'd be somewhere better than okay." The contorted look of semi-frustration on Michonne's face caused Sasha to explain her statement. "Not to say that's your fault."  
"Then what are you trying to say?"  
"That maybe you're not one hundred percent in it. Which is fine. It's just not healthy. Have you picked a piercing yet? That guy over there keeps looking over at us."

Looking over at the overly yet stylishly pierced man stood behind the reception made Michonne feel slightly uneasy, she was about to do this. It almost distracted her from the little defence she could provide in response to being accused of not being one hundred percent into it.

She felt she was… kind of. Thought that the slowness of the process was normal and that eventually she would come around. That it wouldn't always be flared nostrils whenever he was close, or a creeping shiver down her spine when his hand brushed hers as they passed Andre from one to the other. Much of this she didn't disclose during counselling, because she was aware that if the words were said they would be recognised as more cold and harsh than she felt them.  
And honestly, she wasn't ready to handle the complications that would come with Mike if she said such things.

Part of her felt guilty, almost, for being stuck. For not being able to disassociate him from the past and the present. Though, unless Rose was blind, features of Mike's past still played up in session and how was Michonne meant to bring that up without straight denial from Mike and Rose who just couldn't see it? His eyes would linger on Rose's legs and her collar bones that peaked out of the top of her shirts sometimes, even her mouth when she spoke about how Mike could better his relationship _with Michonne._

It frustrated her within session, but Michonne soon found that once she left the room she was too exhausted to mention it. Something in her didn't want to, because that would take energy and she often found herself thinking that even if she put in all that energy – like she had for years and years – he may just keep doing the same thing, driving her crazy to the point of unhappiness. Michonne would not let that happen.

Clearing her throat, Michonne walked over to the reception, smiling at the man, taking into account the large beard that suited his face, alongside the tattoos that travelled up his arms. "Good morning," she smiled, her pearly teeth a gentle contrast against her skin. As though contagious, the man smiled back her, leaning forward to engage their conversation even further.

"And what can I do for a bright woman like you?" His tone was soft, dipped in a way that was almost flirtatious, causing Michonne to smile even harder.  
"Well, I'd like an industrial piercing." She focused on her body language, how she softened her voice and leaned slightly to lure him in like a siren. It made her think of Mike, of the way he must have been, behind her back, soft and smooth to another woman that wasn't her. It made her aware of the fact she felt little guilt by doing this – however, she was rationalising it by saying it was nothing at all, just a smooth check that she still had it.

"Nice choice, would suit your personality." He smirked, licking his lips as he watched Michonne fish for her purse and money.  
"My personality? How do you know what it is?" His fingertips touched hers as they exchanged the money and she felt no tingle or desire to further anything. _Huh, if only Mike was able to feel such a thing._

"Don't know," he gave her back the change, "You just seem… fiery." Inserting a wink, he laughed a little. "You'll be ready to go in in about five minutes, practice your deep breathing exercises. If you need a hand to hold, I'd kindly do so."

Michonne laughed as she turned away to return to Sasha who gave her one look over. "So much going on that I can't keep up."

* * *

Michonne eavesdropped on the conversation Abe and Sasha were having as they sat in the car, engine off, preparing to go. The never-ending laughter that left Sasha's lips almost made her envious, because it showed that Sasha was still able to be comfortable around the man that had put a ring on her finger.

She remembered how they met, how Sasha had come bounding back from a heavy break up when his sharp-witted, loud dirty mouth had managed to get her to agree to put his number in her phone. 'We'll see how it goes' Sasha had said, still unsure and weary of the jumping back so fast into the game. But it had paid off, left her with a future with a man that reached the small threads of her that no man had ever managed to get to.

"I've got Michonne with me… yeah, I know, she's all up in here changing on the both of us!" Holding a finger to show one minute, Sasha lurched for the keys. Michonne wafted her hands as if to say that time didn't matter – which it did, purely because she wanted to go home and salt water her ear for fear of anything happening.

There was little change in her demeanour. Michonne's back still held straight as though a string wrapped around her spine and her eyes were still present, but inside, inside she felt powerful. Felt like a superhero must have felt the first time they discovered their powers accidentally.  
So far, there had been change, good change within her life – despite it being catalysed by such negative events – and she couldn't help be proud of herself.

She couldn't help thinking about Rick's reaction – but she was contemplating about waiting until he done his other side of the deal.

As though on cue, his name brightened up her screen and it made her smile, a small one, as she was cautious that Sasha could see and she just wasn't up for people getting the wrong idea. Especially Sasha. If she saw such a thing in the flesh, she would never let it go.

"Hey," Rick sounded breathless down the phone, clipped with franticness. "Are you busy? I need help with something, it's… kind of urgent." She could tell that he was shuffling on his feet, indecisive about something.  
Feeling the urgency of it all, Michonne quickly responded. "Yeah, where are you? I can drop by."  
"Town, the gallery. Thank you." It sounded genuine and sincere, so much so that Michonne hung up the phone and interrupted the almost ending conversation Sasha was happening.

"Sorry to interrupt – HEY ABE! – but I need you to drive me somewhere. It's Rick, it's apparently urgent."

Sasha grinned, putting the key in the ignition and turning it so that the engine roared to life. "I know Abe, if only she was this quick to come running for me."

Although said in a jokey tone, the statement didn't sit right in Michonne's eardrums.

His denim blue shirt was almost too easy to find in the small crowd of dwindling people.

He was facing away from her, the soft curls of his hair a little dishevelled – _probably from him rubbing the back of his head as a way to resolve whatever dilemma is here.  
_ Slanting slightly, his posture made him seem inquisitive as he looked at the big picture on the wall. If you weren't Michonne, you wouldn't have noticed the soft tapping on his finger against his thigh as he waited for her.

"You know," she said, sneaking up on him and sliding in beside him, making his heart race from surprise, "you have got to get new shirts."  
Once the shock levels fell, Rick found himself chuckling and bumping his shoulder into her. "I thought this shirt matched my eyes?"  
"Damn right it does, but wearing it every day will dull the experience." They began to fall into a rhythmic step, looking at the pieces of art on the wall. She found that Rick often grunted, and different levels of them could be used to figure out what he thought about the piece in front of him – the higher, the better. Michonne almost found herself amused with her ability to dissect him that she was taken aback when she remembered that she was there for a reason.

"What about this was so urgent then?" This was asked as Michonne rested her back against a pillar, crossing one leg over the other to look at him fully once he turned around from the painting. His finger no longer tapped in anticipation, but excitement, and a smile caught his lips as though it had been carried with the wind.  
"This place, what do you think of it? The lighting? The colour scheme?" Taking in the cream walls, the soft and mellow lighting that painted the room and the tone of Rick's voice, all Michonne could do was nod in response – it wasn't as though she knew anything about room design anyway.

"Good enough to host a small showing?" His head bent then, to look at the ground as his cheeks were plastered with a colour of pink delicacy.  
"You're serious… wow, I thought it would have taken you longer, way longer." Walking towards him, Michonne put a finger under his chin so his eyes lifted. "Have you spoken to the people here about it?" Retracting her finger left Rick cold, made him miss the connection and the soft buzz that had accompanied her action.

"Well," he watched her intently as she turned to scan the crowd for whoever she thought ran the place. In fact, there was something different about her ways today that almost knocked him over, left him… unsure, but in a good way, excited even. "I've got to wait until closing time, he's apparently busy all day. Which is also part of the reason why you're here."

"So, you're just using me for company?" Finding herself beside him again, Michonne pouted as though the notion was unforgiving.  
"Well, you're the best company I know."

It was nice to hear. And if the room had been quiet, save for all the chattering and shuffling of shoes, you may have been able to hear the clogs working in the unconscious part of Michonne's brain, where she wasn't aware of what was happening but could soon be if she tried really hard.  
Once again, they found themselves stood next to each other silently, watching as others came to observe images, exchanging disapproving and approving grunts, with conversations that made no sense to her but did to Rick – which you could tell as he would eavesdrop and nod or shake his head in response to a statement someone had made.

It was nice, Michonne noted, to be in such a place where things didn't seem to matter as heavily. You were here for one purpose and one purpose only. It reminded her of jazz actually and it made her appreciate Rick even more for bringing her here.  
"So why didn't you bring Jessie?" The question had been sitting close to the corner of her mouth since he had stated that she was very good company.  
"Because you know me better."  
"Soon she will too. She probably does, seen as you guys left together." Her relaxed statement jabbed at the space between Rick's ribs in a way that made him uncomfortable, as though the topic wasn't meant to be spoken about. It felt like speaking to a family member about wrong doings at a Christmas table.

"Nothing happened." Michonne looked at him, a question-filled expression plastering her face. "Yeah, I know. A chance to get some of the company I've been wanting and I throw it away. Literally. I know it's not gentleman like to say this, but she wanted to and I didn't feel up for it. Is that normal?"  
Pausing in front of another image, Michonne found her shoulders shaking in laughter. "Don't doubt yourself Rick, you're fine."

"Then why are you laughing?" He flicked at her arm, making her wince a little.  
"Because you're all 'gentlemen' and cute about it, it's sweet." They watched each other for a second, Rick's shoulders tensing with words he wanted to say but didn't know how, before a steady breath let them all go.

"You know, this is the biggest step I've made towards officially moving on from Lori. She had left me so stagnant and I'm still not one hundred percent back to who I was." They stood in front of a blue painting and it seemed to resonate with what he said, feeling sad and heavy, full of reflection. It caused Michonne to press into him, with her hands around his neck and her nose checking for the faintest smell of Jessie to see whether he had lied.

And she wondered why she thought he would lie.

And again the clogs in her unconscious mind turned and generated idea after idea with some so close to the truth it would burn her when she figured it out.

There was a bubble that enveloped around them at the moment, made them blissfully unaware of the reduction in footwork around them until they were the only people left in the room. It was only when they heard the shuffle of feet followed by a cough that Rick's body tensed and they separated, wondering how time had passed so quickly without them.

"If that's the only reason you want to rent out my art gallery, it's completely fine with me, as long as you pay the upfront fee of course." A man with sharp goatee and stylish, colourful clothes walked towards them, extending his arms to both Rick and Michonne. "Sorry it took me so long, today was a busy day as you could tell. Thank you for waiting, I'll probably end up giving you 10% off or something if you decide to stick with me."

Rick looked around the room once more, the nervous tapping of his finger to his thigh made Michonne aware that he was doubting himself, ready to go back on the promise or push it to a later date. "Don't worry, he's sticking with you. I think we're up for signing the paperwork now, aren't we, Rick?"

He found her eyes, bewilderment contrasted excitement, until Rick decided there was no use trying to silently argue with her. "Of course, the same date we discussed would still be okay, right?"  
The man watched their dynamic, flashing a smile at the levels of dominance they shared within their relationship. "Of course, I'll go get the papers."

As the man left, Rick turned to Michonne, beginning to cross his arms across his chest. Prying them open with a laugh, Michonne stood in front of him, her hands still holding on to his upper arms. "Are you going to thank me or what?" Playfully Michonne shook him, throwing her head back in laughter at the expression that covered his face.

As Rick's arms rose, Michonne removed her hands from them and put hers to her side. He was looking at her differently from how he had all day, with a kind of softness she had only caught from him in rare occasions. It was kind enough to make anyone warm.  
There was hesitation in the air, like when a couple are just about to find out the sex of their baby and they wonder if they really want to ruin the surprise right in front of them, or when a thumb hovers over the 'send' button before a message filled with emotion is exposed to the recipient.

His hands found her collarbones and she was always caught off guard when she felt his hands, even if it was by accident, they were always warm and soft. There was an intensity that couldn't be denied, it painted the space between them thick with itself and made their blood pressures rise. It almost began to hurt to be part of the interaction, because it was so unspoken and yet so loud, that it just about made them wonder whether they would use words to speak to each other again when their eyes and body language and broken breaths were doing enough in the moment.

The sound of papers broke the spell as quickly as it had started, the straightness of Michonne's spine and the threads that wrapped around it loosening as Rick's hands left her collar bones. A soft pain let her know that his fingers had dug into her, made her aware that there was something more that had been held back.  
She gathered herself quickly, put all of the thoughts that ran like horses in the wild to a place in her mind that would only be opened at night, when the curving of Mike's body against hers made her uncomfortable and incomplete.

And once Rick had signed the papers, they found themselves in Rick's car, his hands reaching over her chest to find the seatbelt and click it into place for her. "Safety first in my car."  
She smiled at him, watching pedestrians pass by them, still feeling something that sat and poured itself between her veins. As a distraction, Michonne tied up her hair into a neat bun and was reminded the events of her day when Rick reached for the lobe of her ear.

"Well someone kept this quiet." The engine started and Rick licked his lips before looking over his shoulder to start reversing.  
"I just needed to be sure you wouldn't back out of your side of the deal." Michonne watched as his blue eyes grazed over her to the road in front, allowing him to drive and join the traffic ahead.

"Well I'd never do anything to let you down," Rick said, as his hand accidentally brushed just above her knee as he absent-mindedly looked for the gum he always kept in the cupholder.

* * *

 **A/N: Thank you for all the reviews. It helps me.**


	11. Chapter 11

**129 days to present:**

"Okay! No, that's totally oka- aw! You too, goodbye now Rose." Mike sighed against the kitchen counter as Michonne bought the piece of toast she was having to her mouth.  
"That was?" She questioned, the words a little muffled due to the toast mushed in her mouth.  
Chuckling, Mike turned towards the sink and began to clank the plates around rather loudly, "It was Rose, cancelling the session. Apparently 'something came up'." The running of the tap filled the silence as Michonne clawed for something to say. She could tell that Mike was very upset in the moment, the way his shoulders hunched and the blood vessels in his arms found their way to the surface, to press against it as if wanting to escape to the outside world.

Too lightly and she was sure Mike wouldn't respond well. Too rigid, too angry of a response, and he'd just get into a worse mood. It was a nice Saturday, quiet, as Mike had taken it upon himself to drop Andre to his Grandmother's whilst Michonne had gone out to jazz the previous night – where Rick and her had taken it upon themselves to celebrate his new investment.

It was fun to watch him, more intoxicated than he had ever been. A slur in his voice, the sloppiness of his smile warm on her personality, almost complimenting it. He tripped over his words, finding himself enough within his drunken slumber to feel embarrassed about his behaviour and apologise profusely about how ungentlemen like he was being.  
'"Rick, it's okay to be that way around me,"' Michonne reached over to pat his thigh, taking into account the tell-tale sign of a jolt breaching her hand as she did so. Throwing her head back into a laugh, Michonne retracted her hand and used it to bring a drink up to her lips.

The night had carried on, looser than it had ever been for either of them. They stood up and clapped haphazardly when the performances were done, and slumped back into their chairs (barely missing the seat) and leaned towards together when they had to talk, as if the world couldn't listen to their conversation.  
"Ya know, I'd probably still be as upset as I was the day … before I met you if I hadn't have met you. D'ya understand me?" Rick looked at her helplessly then, eyes droopy with drunkenness and a soft tint to his cheeks that the dim light caught in all of the right places.

And Michonne had swayed softly, before wrapping her arms around him as they sat in their chairs and the dim lighting and their hearts hammered – due to the alcohol, is what they believed.  
"You would have made it here anyway Rick-ee!" She squealed, pulling him up with her and making a move for the door. Rick trailed behind her, feeling the warmth of the alcohol and hers mix, turning his palms to fire.

They found themselves walking in circles outside of the venue, using the excuse that they were doing so because the air would sober them up.  
"So you and Mike?" His shoulder bumped hers as he walked, zig-zagged and bow legged, looking at the sky that was dusted with stars, as though God had taken a salt-shaker and gone wild. When Michonne didn't reply, her eyes cast to the wet of the ground that allowed the moon to reflect on it, Rick budged her shoulder again. "If you look at the sky enough, you remember that things are so insignificant."

When her eyes didn't leave the floor again, he ran ahead of her a few steps, before standing directly in front of her until she did stop and look up at him. "Even though I'm a _little_ drunk, I know what I'm talking about." He pressed two fingers under her chin and pushed her head towards the sky, his eyes grazing along the soft of her lips.

The rise and fall of her shoulders, followed by the closing of her eyes made his heart slow, but only by a fraction. If he wasn't so in tune with himself, he could have missed it, but he didn't. And that mattered, that was significant. "If you think about how many stars there are, and then how they got there, and how they're part of you, somehow… it makes everything better."

When the silence got too heavy for him, he placed a hand on her shoulder, jolting her back into his reality. "Do it whenever things get hard, between you and Mike. It helped… with Lori and I, it helped me."

The drunken slowness of the world disappeared quickly after that, a new form of drunkness set itself in Rick's bones that he attempted to fight and yet, to his curiosity, couldn't. And yet he followed Michonne, listened to her as she rambled absent-mindedly, adding a self-deprecating joke that he fought against, watching her – observing how nothing in her faltered like it had within him in moments over the night.

They eventually ended the night when their cabs arrived, suffocating each other in a death hug at their success. At the small steps of growth they had made together.  
"Get home safe." She whispered, snuggling into the back of the taxi.  
"You too 'chonne." He had replied, softly, almost reaching for the door himself.

"You know," Mike interrupted the flashback that had unfolded in front of Michonne, causing her hand to flinch at the sudden pull back to reality. "You don't seem all that bothered."  
When Michonne casted a look towards him from the sofa, allowing a feeling to burn on his back, he began again. "My mother isn't happy about our situation, you know?" The flustered hints in his tone caused her shoulders to tense.

It was an odd relationship between Michonne and her mother law. It had been from the very moment Mike had introduced her as a girlfriend – but was never like that when she was simply a 'friend'.  
"The same Mother that you practically had to convince it was a good idea to marry me?" Her tongue began to roll. "Or the same mother that wondered how you could be attracted to someone 'not so fair' in her words, if I recall."

Mike sighed, turning to face her and resting his back on the edge of the sink. "I told you those things ages ago, she's changed now." The rise of Michonne's eyebrow from the sofa let him know she didn't fully believe him, resulting in him folding his arms and shaking his head.  
They stayed staring at each other in silence then, waiting for something more to be said. Michonne was waiting for words that were delicate enough to move on the conversation, without making it look intentional – whilst the cogs in Mike's mind wanted to rip through everything, dangerously and all too fast and all too soon.

So he did.

"Maybe she's right. She thinks I'm staying out of guilt. She thinks your staying because of Andre." When he paused and Michonne didn't reply, he almost did a double take looking at her then. Properly. For the first time in months – which he hated admitting to himself in the moment.  
And it scared him, to see her, so bright. It shouldn't have, because that was selfish, but there she was, shining like she hadn't for longer than he'd care to admit due to his actions. Mike was mad, acknowledging that part of the reason was due to another male – but how could he say that in a way that didn't flare her up, considering why they were in the situation they were in.

"Well do you believe that I'm staying for Andre?" Her eyes moved to the point between his eyebrows, not looking him in the eyes as her hand-picked absent-mindedly at the fluff on the sofa. They gulped the air as if it was the last amount they'd get before diving too deep.

Eventually, Mike placed himself next to her in the silence and pulled her into a soft hug. They stayed like that, the clock ticking in the background as their lives wasted away into each other second by second, until she felt his shoulders hiccup.

* * *

Michonne stay tapping her feet as she stood in the vegetable and fruits isle, wondering about the contents of the fridge and if there such a thing as too many apples.

When she had felt the shake of his shoulders, her stomach lining had crumbled, she felt the weight of her soul collapsed into her.

It had been the feeling of guilt that got to her. Did she give out that vibe? She knew it was her initial intention, and had been the set reminder whenever she felt his mind was wondering too far away in front of her. But… Michonne had thought it hadn't been that intense, so obvious in the atmosphere.  
And the fact that his mother – _his mother_ – had figured part of her out infuriated her. That woman couldn't be right, not by Michonne. That meant she was becoming too transparent.

It was the same guilt that had let their lips lock together and led them to their room; where Michonne rushed where Mike attempted to slow, their hips were mismatched and they both finished, but dissatisfied.  
She had left him sleeping, writing on a post it note that she realised the fridge and freezer were near empty.

So here she stood, unsure of herself and her decisions, so much so that picking up fruit and vegetables were hard enough.  
"Looks like you're really struggling there," the Southern twang made her jump in her skin, allowing Rick's lips to birth a chuckle between them. She turned to look at him, a heat finding her cheeks that she was thankful he couldn't see – that she questioned for appearing also. "Who would have thought a lawyer would have a hard time making decisions, eh?" His cheeky smile formed goofy on his face as he sauntered towards her, bow-legged and all, carrying his own shopping basket as he reached over to pick the exact apples she probably would have, had she been paying attention.

"Oh ha ha, you're so funny Rick, who would have guessed it?" Reaching out with her spare arm she drew him into a hug, taking into account the feeling of his growing beard against her cheek. "I see someone is really going for the artist look." She joked as they parted from each other, her left hand found the side of his face to softly scratch at it.  
When she removed her hand, Rick's replaced where it had been placed and he rubbed at it absent-mindedly as they began to walk down the isle.

"Well, according to Jessie, she thinks trying to grow it out isn't a bad idea. Did you know beards were _in_ now?" Michonne laughed at his disbelief, leading them towards the milk isle. They bantered back and forth a bit, Michonne reminding him that he looked good anyhow and Rick not taking the compliment without some sort of line that condescended him.

"So where's Mike?" They were nearing the end of the shop, having danced around each other and prolonged the conversation by comparing every little item they came across and put into their bags – Michonne's knowledge of food content amazed him just a little bit. "Did you have your session today?"

Her mind clogged, fogged, hazed, any word that can be used to describe the slowing of a brain and all it's functions. It was as though she felt ashamed, that _no_ they didn't go, but yes something happened. And the fact that it did happen should have meant progress, but it didn't. And she felt as though everything she presented to Rick was tainted, that although he was aware that majority of her reason for staying Andre, that maybe he thought she was still in love with Mike.

Which worried her.

Which shouldn't have worried her.

But it did as they placed their shopping at the tills opposite each other.

"I'll message you about it later." Was her final response as they both carried their bags out of the store. Her body language seemed different, more slumped than usual, her spine curved in places Rick could observe were unusual. Michonne often stood tall, sure of herself, but it felt off and he could sense it. It's like coming home and realising the television has been moved by an inch and there's no other way you can explain it.

"You know, if you're in no rush, you can stop by mine. A good drink solves everything." So there she stood, about to reject him, her arms aching from the bags she carried that were too heavy. And she almost did, until the sun hit him in all the right ways and made his eyes sparkle like a pool in the summer, like the patterns on the tile that moved like something rhythmic.

* * *

"Now, this is my mum's best 'cold drink recipe' – what she calls it, we've never changed the name – so you better like it." Rick handed her a tall glass with a slide of lemon that sat on the edge. Michonne smiled, her fingertips catching his at the exchange of the glass and he watched, a small ache forming in him that he pushed and pushed down inside him at the sight of her lips on the glass.

If he was honest, he was more vigilant with her than he had ever been – and not in a good way. It may have been out of frustration. As much as he had been beginning to somewhat like Jessie, the readiness that she presented with him didn't… turn him on (which was not to say she was unattractive herself). He liked the chase, the unknowing of whether to place your hand here or there, the small jolts of electricity when you finally get those hand placements right. That feeling of a chase presented itself whenever Michonne was around, made him correct his eyes from the small of her back to the back of her head, because he was ashamed that if someone saw the ring on her finger and the tanned space on his, they would think the worst of him.

In all honesty, he hadn't got his rocks off in a while and he didn't want to do it out of lust – especially lust due to somebody else. Even more-so knowing that crossing that boundary with Jessie would be a permanent change between them and he still needed to figure out whether they stood in a good enough position to go there.

"It's good, tell her I love it next time she calls." Michonne kicked off her shoes and drew her legs onto the sofa, prompting Rick to sit beside her and spread his legs out onto the nearby coffee table, avoiding the small paint pots dotted at the edge. "So," Michonne nodded towards them, "Do I get to view some paintings?"

Rick smirked, bringing the opening of a beer bottle to his lips. "You may be a best friend, but you're not that special." She smacked at his arm playfully, causing some of the beer he was drinking to dribble from his mouth.

Rick licked his lips to catch the spills, forcing Michonne to look away, pretending to be interested in the walls, pretending to not be imagining small things – that she thought was very very normal, because who doesn't fantasise about attractive people, even just a little bit at times? Even if they are your best friend?

"Hey, why isn't Carl here? You usually have him on weekends."

"Well, you'll be happy to know I have a date with Jessie planned tonight. I'm really trying to get to know her, before… taking any major steps." Michonne nodded as she took a sip of a drink.  
"So… if you do it, it's serious with her, huh?" Rick nodded. "That's not too bad then, at least you guys will have built a rapport, getting to know each other's little quirks, especially if you talk about them."

Rick shook his head, biting his tongue. Michonne watched his jaw line move as he tried to find words to say. "You know, I don't believe I'm telling you this, but I don't feel like I'd have to talk to her much to know. In some ways… she reminds me of Lori and that means 'vanilla'. And there are days I like vanilla and days where…" He trailed off, filling his mouth with beer the second he could, facing the wall as Michonne watched the pink on his ears grow brighter and brighter.

"Who would have thought you were a little kinky?" Michonne joked, reaching over to clink her glass with his beer bottle.  
"Michonne, do you have to put it like that?" She laughed even harder, using her spare hand to pat his thigh.  
"It's okay, you're not the only one. I don't mind a little hair pulling or smacking where it's necessary." Her playful tone had already set the atmosphere, but the wink that followed amplified it.

"I would have expected nothing less from you." His eyes found hers and she could almost see something in them that made her hesitate, that made her ring finger burn, but she ignored it. Smothered the guilt into a place that she would revisit at night when she was unsure of her actions and unsure of the man sleeping beside her and unsure of the constant pangs of fire she felt when Rick touched her bare skin. "I mean, you seem like you'd be up for exploring almost anything, and that's not a bad thing at all. You know, friend to friend."

She blinked back at him, as his head lowered to look at his drink and broke the eye contact. "So you're telling me it was just missionary?"  
"And some cow-girl!" He exclaimed, trying to save himself.  
"Well… find out whether your girl Jessie is vanilla because it seems like you've got some pent-up emotions that can be taken out veeerrryyyy aggressively." Michonne smiled into her glass as she sucked up an ice cube, moving it around her mouth as Rick's eyes flickered to the moistness that guarded her lips.

It was hard not to imagine each other with all this new information. It was as though a light bulb had blinked on in one small department of their subconscious, allowing it to be found in that very moment. On a couch sat two friends attracted to each other, respectful still, yet attracted to each other. And somewhat fantasising, with a small amount of temptation in their veins to ask whether the other was doing the same thing too. Their breaths quickened, and so did their heart rate and they were aware of it, of the increased movement of their chest.

It was easy for Michonne to look at his hands and imagine the strength in them, imagine the look of his veins when he pulled the trigger on a gun, imagine if they'd look the same as they aided in lifting her up and pinning her against the wall.

It was even easier for Rick – sexually frustrated as he was – to imagine the different things they could try. How it would be possible for what used to be a rare event of making love from behind to be frequent with her, and enjoyable, due to the soft plump of her ass against him. How soft and warm she would be. How attentive she would be to his needs since they were so in tune already.

And then it dawned on them how easy it really was to think of each other.

Then how it shouldn't be so easy.

So they cleared their throats, watched each other, then laughed.

Unsure as to whether they were unhappy that neither had said a thing about what they were thinking.

* * *

 **A/N: I'm sorry it took me so long to update. I hope that everyone is doing okay and reading other great Richonne fanfiction.**

 **I just wanted to say that I've had some really negative comments from a particular guest account (which is weak anyway, hiding behind a guest account) BUT I have also had x100 support compared to that, alongside private messages and it feels wonderful.**

 **I hope you can stay along the ride for this story, I have plans for it, I just need you guys to hold on a little bit longer.**


	12. Chapter 12

**128 days to the present:**

Michonne's phone buzzed against her dresser table, the screen illuminating the bedroom as she came to. The sound of Mike's snores filling her ear drum until she rose her hand to pick up her phone. The brightness of the screen burned, causing her to squint her eyes and blur the sight in front of her until it didn't sting.

A glaring whatsapp icon stared back at her, indicating a message from Rick.

She pressed it.

A picture discreetly blurred had been sent to her _but_ alarm bells of what it could be were already ringing in her head.

She pressed the picture for it to begin to download.

Then the image started to move upwards as more and more messages found their way to her.

 _Rick: U are 1 of the sexiest woman I've ever seen._

 _Rick: I wouldn't mind having u on me. I bet u feel nice_

 _Rick: Ive never wnted anyting so badly_

Michonne almost started to giggle to herself, but stopped herself before she could wake Mike. As he had said earlier, he had gone out with Jessie and probably got himself a little drunk in the process. It was no biggy. She wouldn't hold this against him.

 _Rick: I want to feel u on my tongue :P_

The irrelevant emoji made her smile as she reread the messages. Admittedly, some parts of them made her burn a little, made her mind wonder – even though she was pretty good at convincing herself that his action and her response were nothing out of the ordinary.  
Her mind wandered to times when she had seen him lick his lips, the soft point of its tip and the rich pink of it was alluring to her in those times. She almost began to wonder how it would feel against her, flicking across her at an alarming pace and…

Michonne sighed, scrolling back up as she remembered the picture she had downloaded and what she saw made her jolt.

 _What should I do?_

Michonne pondered, staring at the image and the few following messages she could see below.

 _Michonne: Hey Rick, I think you're drunk. It's Michonne, are you sure you want me to see all this?_

Her hands typed a mile a minute as she tried to prevent anything else from occurring – a spontaneous phone call or video call or more messages. Her heart raced a little bit more at the idea – which she dismissed at the same time – of Rick being attracted to her like this… if it was meant for her that is. It could have been for Jessie. And if that were the truth, it made Michonne feel green in some ways.

Rick began to type and then stop and then repeat this cycle for what seemed like hours, until all capital letters found her eyes.

 _Rick: DO NOT OPEN THAT! I'M SORRY I'M RELLY DRUNK N I THOUGHT I WAS SENDIN IT TO JJJ!_

 _Rick: CHOOOOONE ANSWER ME._

It was too late to not have opened it and seen it, but she decided to save his pride and reassured him that she had not. The frantic texts from him stopped soon after, probably because the mix of stress and alcoholic put him to sleep. Maybe he had wanted that to be Michonne's job.

Still in a small state of shock, Michonne put her phone back on her dresser, attempting to close her eyes and forget what had just unfolded.  
Just before she caved back into sleep, she gave herself a mental note to delete it in the morning – and for some reason, this felt like the most guilty action of the night.

* * *

But the morning came in a rush.

She washed Andre and fed him, then made breakfast for Mike and herself before they piled into a car to go to Michonne's mothers house.  
It was a Sunday and Michonne hadn't seen her mother in a while, although they spoke on the phone frequently enough. It felt good for Michonne to not have to prepare anything and if she had, given the events of the night, she may end up lost in thought and burning the whole thing.

Once in the house her mother greeted her with a large hug and a kiss, followed by the lifting of Andre, who she squished to oblivion with love. This was normal and the only shift in normality came from her interaction with Mike.  
Previously, they would have great big smiles towards each other and her Mother's arms would find him in an even bigger hug than it found her – but that wasn't the case these days. The interaction was rigid, cold, felt tactical as it minimised the amount of contact that was needed between the two. A soft nod and murmur of 'Mike' left her Mother's lips before she walked back into the kitchen. At times like this, Michonne ignored Mike's face and continued to do whatever task was in front of her – right now that was following her Mother to the kitchen and taking up any cooking duties.

"So you think you can just come up in here and walk straight past me?" Sasha commented the moment Michonne entered the kitchen, getting up to promptly hug her with Amelia in her hand.  
Amelie was Sasha's 4 year old daughter, cute and fiery just like her Sasha – both of them joked about how her lips always looked pursed, as if ready to say a bad word just like her father.

"Where's Abe?" Michonnes question was soon answered as the sound of heavy boots clomped down the stairs. Abe's giant moustache rose with his grin as he picked up Michonne from the floor, squishing her in a bear hug.  
"Long time no see!" He leaned in closer to her ear, "still with the scumbag I see." Chuckling at his comment he stepped back, recieiving a look of approval from Michonne's Mother and disapproval from Sasha. "What? You say it all the time! Doesn't she little Amy?"

Amelie giggled in return, as if to solidify that yes he was saying the truth and yes, she was a daddies girl.  
"Yeah, but _I'm_ allowed. Coming from you that's just plain rude, right Michonne?"  
"I mean… he didn't swear." Michonne discreetly rose her fist to bump it with Abe, cueing Sasha to roll her eyes into the back of her head.

The laughter between Abe and Michonne faltered as Mike ended the room and Abe's face grimaced, just enough for Michonne to identify it. Still, his firm hands rose to clasp Mike's in a stiff handshake and he invited him outside to 'get out of the ladies hairs' with the children.  
This action left the kitchen free for the three ladies to manoeuvre, Michonne taking to preparing the macaroni and cheese, whilst Sasha accompanied by washing and drying the dishes.

Her mother, who was preparing the chicken legs, was a woman of few words. She had always been that way, and Michonne hadn't appreciated it much when she was younger – if a no ever left her mother's mouth, it was definite and no matter how much her teenage self would try to argue back, not a single word would follow.

Michonne never knew if the offset was due to her father's own death, who had died when she was very young. But the short video recordings they have of them before he died show her to be the same, just louder, still bright and strong and stable… just louder.  
Eventually, Michonne grew to like the silence, the definitiveness in it. She applied it in her work and she found that it would make even the strongest minded people unravel, the awkwardness of it – if you didn't get used to it – would force you to think you needed to fill the silence, when you really didn't.

So it had been shocking, months ago, when whilst sitting in silence with Andre in her lap that her Mother had started to speak deeply in regards to Mike's behaviour.  
"You remember Auntie Joy? We ain't seen her in a while, the last time was about 15 years ago." After looking at her for a period, her mother's face scrunched up. "Michonne, close your mouth. I'm trying to talk here, yes or no?" The nod received from Michonne acted as reassurance and she settled again, her eyes still on Andre, never flickering to Michonne as she spoke. Only when she waited.

"Well, this happened to her. All her kids and all, you know, a good four of them." She shifted in her seat, tapping at the arms of the chair. "And she cried and cried over the phone to me, just like you did. And I told her to leave, because you don't stay with someone after that. But she didn't. The four kids made her stay because she couldn't pay her way on her own." The obvious frustration built within her expressed itself in her hands running through her hair.

"Now I'm going to tell you, I would like for you to leave. But that situation showed me that you can't tell people what's good for them, even if you know what's good. I had what was good – your father was a good, pure hearted man. And when I see what's not good, I tell people to get rid of it, because they'll never experience what your father gave me if they stay. Do you agree?"

Michonne had nodded, understanding what her mother was trying to say. The hurt in her voice when she reminisced on her lost love. Michonne had wanted that, been determined in that moment to keep going and keep moving. But the goal shifted when Andre's behaviour had changed, had become slower and more sad and it had broken her heart – more than Mike had – and directed her behaviour more than her brain ever could.

Right now, Michonne was facing the large window that gave a view of Andre kicking a football with a smile on his face. It made her heart warm. The memory of her mother talking to her hand flicked off something within her, it had killed something, she could feel it. The advice was real within her again, making her feel determined.

 _'But determined to do what?'_ she wandered.

Watching Mike scoop Andre into his arms sometimes filled her with something she could not name or place. And recently, it had been nagging at her more and more often. Sometimes, the feeling made her wonder whether her being was questioning the decision to remain just for Andre.  
Maybe there was another way? Maybe there was more? Maybe she could step away and be like Rick and still have Andre and be less restricted, less cautious. Free.

She caught her mother looking at her from the other side of the kitchen, her right eyebrow raised in a question. A quick shake of Michonne's head made it lower as she placed the chicken into the oven and went to wash her hands. "I'm going to rest, you girls okay to finish?"

"Of course!" Sasha commented, wiping her hand on a towel as she walked towards where Michonne stood and rested her back on the counter. Once she was sure they were alone, she grinned, prodding Michonne in the arm. "So, are you going to tell me why you seem so different? An ear piercing doesn't do it."

Scoffing, Michonne finished the salad with a drizzling of oil before pushing it to a side and resting against the counter with Sasha. "A silly little thing happened. Rick… uh… sexted me."

"WHAT?!"

"Could you be any louder? Gosh." Shaking her head in disappointment, Michonne leaned in. "He was drunk, it was an accident. He's been apologising for it so much I've had to turn my phone off for the day. Vibrate after vibrate, even after all the reassurance."

As they laughed, Sasha walked towards the fridge, gathering a jug of Kool aid from the fridge to pour into glasses.  
Michonne hadn't had time to remove the picture this morning, due to the rush of the day. She would have to when she went home – to give her friend some dignity. Part of her wanted to laugh at the situation and brush it over, but it had turned in her mind, made her question things.  
Like whether he felt the jolts that she did when she touched him, and if that played on the back of his mind like an old song from someone's youth, where you keep skipping over a set of lyrics in the chorus that you can't remember but hope you will.

The burning in her pit of her stomach at the thought was enough to say that this topic was delicate and in some way wrong, and that it would not appear at any time in counselling.  
She was glad the money for counselling wasn't coming out her own pocket, because – as ashamed as she was to admit – some parts of her lacked honesty - this did.

"Do I tell Mike?" The self doubt had crept up, making her stare into the glass as she took a sip, the back of her neck burning waiting for Sasha's response. This silence was uncomfortable, so much so her hands started to shake just a little. Her defense mechanism was prepared for action, ready to talk about something else, more gossip that would gather Sasha's attention more than this.

"Well who would deny the mighty chocolate goddess Michonne?" Sasha joked, patting her cousin on the back before her face changed to a serious position. "If it was just a sext, a drunk one, no. Just make sure it never happens again… if you really want to work on this marriage." The tone in her last words made Michonne raise an eyebrow, flicking her eye at Sasha, who's hands flew up to defend herself. "Sometimes, your cracks show and I'm just waiting for you to see that too."

Before Michonne could reply, the backdoor opened, leaving her mouth hanging open in suspense. Mike's voice boomed in the space of things left unsaid.

"Hey, what did we miss?"

* * *

After they had arrived home, Michonne still hadn't turned her phone on. She was afraid of the buzzing of it, of the look on Mike's face when he heard it and rose an eyebrow to question her without a w rod. Instead, Michonne took to cooing with Andre and watching his favourite shows until his head began to dip and she had to quickly wash him and rest his head on a pillow.

Eventually it was her turn to be washed, her quick heated shower left her feeling smooth as she rubbed cocoa butter up her leg as Mike entered the room.  
"Showered without me?" He attempted a joke, licking his lips as he pulled his shirt over his head.  
Michonne didn't respond, but chose to flick a smooth smile at him as she settled into bed, pulling the covers up above the over-sized shirt she wore.

He began to maneuverer around the room, acting as though he wasn't putting on a small show as he removed items of clothing one by one. Michonne was present, but not really. She played the role of interested, flicking her eyes to and from him when needed, to make it seem as though what he was doing was the only thing occupying her mind. But it wasn't.  
The uncharacteristic silence of the room, absence from the buzzing of her phone bugged her. There was a temptation to reach under her pillow and turn on her phone with Mike there, but she withdrew from it – she would have to wait for him to be gone, to give him this moment of attention.

"So, now that you're naked, are you going to bathe? You just up and left this morning, acting like I didn't see you!" Michonne attempted to remove the eagerness in her voice by moving around the bed under the covers, acting as though she was trying to get into comfortable position.  
"Observing me, huh?" She nodded. "Is that good or bad?" Michonne shrugged, winking and nudging her head towards the bathroom door. "Unbelievable." Mike muttered, shaking his head as he picked up a towel and left the room.

The pounding of her heart was immense as she turned on her phone, Rick's name the first to show once she was unable to unlock her screen. Zooming past other messages her eyes settled on his frantic ones, each as laughably pathetic as the last:

 _Rick: I'm sorry, I don't know what came over me._

 _Rick: Or maybe I d_

 _Rick: That message wasn't meant to send Michonne_

[1 hour later]

 _Rick: Listen, Michonne I don't know what to say_

 _Rick: I feel like a fool_

 _Rick: I'm going to start texting you now_

[3 hours later]

 _Rick: Michonne are you ok?_

 _Rick: You haven't responded, I'm worried. I'm sorry if I've offended you._

She felt her heart melt, like ice in the palm of someones hand.

The sound of the shower filled her ears and she knew that Mike was now in there.

 _Michonne: Hey Rick, as I said, no big deal. I'm alive so you don't have to worry. Hope you're okay!_

She lay for a few more minutes, re-reading the text messages, thinking about how sincere he came across. Michonne lay there, aware that now she had the time to remove the photo from her phone. That it was unfair she had carried it around all day and needed to just get rid of it in the sake of his privacy.

Before opening her gallery she looked around with guilt, afraid that cameras were hidden somewhere and that she would be caught on a show like Maury or Jerry Springer or something. Although, she wasn't doing anything bad, she was simply deleting an image. Sent with no secret intention. Sent with no desire on her end.

Michonne felt something in her stomach hum low and steady as she looked at the image. Looked at the soft curve at the tip of his cock, the veins that pressed against the soft of his skin and climbed up to the tip of him. He was different to how she had imagined, thicker and longer – she was ashamed to think that she had thought about it before in this moment in time.

 _Okay, it must go._

Once her thumb pressed the delete button, Michonne thought that would be it. That the low, humming ache in the pit of her stomach would subside and she'd be fine. But that didn't happen. Instead it moved, lower, causing her to clench at the intensity of it, clasping her legs together in a sudden jolt of hormones and wanting.

Well, she rationalised, I haven't had a good decent finish in some time.

She looked towards the door and allowed the sound of the bathroom water to fill her senses, something familiar setting in her chest and making her weary of her next actions.  
But Michonne didn't stop herself as her hands snaked down to her wetness, shocked at much was there. And she didn't stop herself when the smooth rubs came to follow at her nub, as her eyes closed, and her mouth opened, and she began to imagine what it would be like. With him. How different it would be. She had never felt anyone else, stretched for anyone else, cum on anybody else.

The water turned off and Michonne was aware she had limited time to finish herself. Her finger sped up as her back began to curve.  
Rick's hands always looked so strong, would they ever handle something as gently as this?  
Is this what Jessie would feel soon enough?  
Was she really masturbating to the thought of her good friend?

Michonne was nearing the end, the heaviness of her breathing and the twitching jolts finding her leg. She thought about yesterday, about the way his blue eyes had flickered over her body when he thought she couldn't see, and other days where his skin touched hers and there was a jolt.  
If his hands could do that to her, what could he really do?  
If he could make her jolt with so little, what could he do with a lot?

The images were too much for her as she collapsed in on herself, the bathroom door opening just as she did – which forced her to turn and face away, so it looked as though Michonne was merely turning in her sleep. Her legs were still clasped together, riding out the strength of her orgasm, the wetness still slick between her thighs.  
Remaining still as Mike entered the room, Michonne kept her eyes shut. Afraid that if she opened them, Mike may figure out what she'd just done.


	13. Chapter 13

**122 days:**

Michonne's feet were planted firmly to the ground as she looked at Rose. She was different today. Her hair wasn't as neatly put together, her lips were rid of the red that usually was painted on there and she had deeply sighed multiple times during the session already.  
"Rose?" Mike's voice boomed with concern, "Are you okay? Is there anything we can do for you in this session?" His attentiveness to her grazed on Michonne, which she didn't like. It felt like a sign – among many others – that this counselling wasn't working. She wasn't over the cheating, she was still aware that one day the topic of how it came about would fill her ears with bullshit and her mind with images she didn't want to see. It had been an avoided conversation, the elephant in the room had swelled and swelled until it pushed everyone in the room to the walls and suffocated them to their death.

It became difficult to watch him double check on Rose again and again, to hear the lowered dip in his voice when he spoke to her – that he had always previously used on Michonne to get his way. She wondered if he did it subconsciously, the flirting thing, or if it was something he was aware of and then ignored and pushed aside like it didn't pertain to him.  
Then again, it was fairly easy for Michonne to push things aside also.

After the image of Rick and the events that occurred after, Michonne had cowered in herself. The thumbs that used to text back a mile a minute were slow and sluggish, taking hours to reply at a time because of the shame – though, it was not to say that Rick knew what she had done and thought.  
On the other end of the line, Rick had been dealing with the embarrassment of it all – having to scroll through all his 'needy' texts that followed the event. He would reply slowly too, rubbing his growing beard in frustration at the awkward tension between them, then having to unfurrow his eyebrows in the company of Jessie so she didn't ask him too many questions.

Thankfully, he had decided to intercept the awkwardness by stating that the date for his show was officially in this morning.

 _Rick: In about four months, the gallery opens for me. You going to be there?_

 _Michonne: I wouldn't miss it for the world_

 _Rick: Well if I invite you and Mike to something else will you still not miss it for the world?_

 _Michonne: Depends_

 _Rick: Dinner and a drink up, tonight?_

 _Michonne: Mike says yeah we'll be there!_

 _Rick: Awesome all these beers need to go_

 _Michonne: Hopefully not down you, make sure to put your phone away_

 _Rick: I was waiting for a dick joke! Nice to have you back_

 _Michonne: Nice to be back_

Michonne had rationalised it simply by saying that she had been horny. Her truthful explanation for not doing something with Mike was… still in the works. And yet, she wanted to say that it was because of his cheating – but she had slept with him after all of it occurred anyway – but this wasn't true. She wanted to say that she wasn't attracted to him anymore, which was only partially true. The real true, jumped at the back of her throat demanding to be said, but was hushed by every deep breath taken when it threatened to move to the tip of her tongue.

"No, it's okay. I'm here for you. Let's continue." Rose straightened her skirt and sat up, her spine being pulled towards the ceiling. Part of Michonne wanted to ask the woman what was indeed wrong, she seemed tired today. But she also knew that if it was something drastic, it may be best to ask the woman when they were alone. "So Michonne, how is everything?"  
With her mouth ajar, ready to answer the question with what she assumed were the correct words, Mike interrupted. "Well, we've been getting intimate frequently." He sounded pleased, confident even.

"So I assume that the going on a date a few weeks ago was a positive thing? Have you tried anything like that since?" No, we haven't.  
"Well no, I think we've been good, so we don't really need another one. Right, Mich?" He looked at her expectantly and she sat docile for a moment, aware of all the eyes on her. The longer the silence dragged on, the more questionable her presence would be.

"I mean, it's… going. There are still obvious hurdles to overcome. Am I right or wrong Rose?" She ignored Mike's simmering angered face and looked at Rose, a slight pleading in her eye to agree with her and make her not feel so false in the moment.

"Yeah, most importantly, they're your hurdles. We still haven't overcome the topic of… the 5 W's." Rose sat back in her seat, tapping her pen to her paper. Michonne's eyebrow raised and she continued, "The who, what, when, where, why and how of this certain predicament." Her eyes flickered to Mike once more, as she wrote down in her notebook.

"I feel as though you both may be at different goal posts in this journey and I would like to know where you both stand. Which isn't a bad thing, don't looks afraid. I just need to see you alone. Mike, next Saturday and Michonne the following, is that okay?"  
Looking over at Mike, she could tell that he didn't like the sound of it. Maybe he was afraid of what he wouldn't be able to hear, and if it didn't work in his favour. He wouldn't be able to interject whenever a question was directed at her and smooth out the creases he saw without wondering why they were there.

"That's fine, whatever makes this easier."

She felt the strain in his voice.

* * *

They dropped Andre at his Grandmothers and were on their way.

Michonne had been surprised when Mike had said yes so nonchalantly, but made sure to watch his body language and the tightening of his jaw.  
Music played in the car, filling in the silence between her and Mike. He hadn't been happy at what Rose had said, Michonne thought it was because he figured that seeing them separately meant something entirely bad- although Rose had attempted to reassure him it wasn't like that.

She was afraid to see Rick, just a little bit. Afraid that he would be able to see through her and her memories, to where she orgasmed over the mental image of him.

They arrived, and Rick opened the door. He had a new shirt this time, still a blue that matched his eyes and Michonne felt short of breath for a few seconds. His half smile found his way to her first, where his eyes lingered, before they found Mike's and his mouth straightened a little. They nodded at each other as Mike and Michonne stepped over the threshold and Michonne was pummelled by Jessie.

"It's so nice to see you again Michonne!" She squealed, intertwining their arms forcefully. "I'm so excited to show you Rick's house. He says you guys have never been here before, so I suggested a tour!" Jessie looked over at Mike and flashed him a quick smile, "You gonna follow?"  
Mike shrugged and began to walk in their direction, leaving Rick at the end of the line.

Jessie took them around, showing them the individual rooms as though it was her house and as though this was a good decision at all – especially since Michonne's stomach grumbled deeply.  
"Hey, what is this room?" Michonne stepped towards it and as she did, Rick pressed his body between her and the door. They were so close that the smell of pine filled her nostrils and she tingled just a little bit. A smirk formed on her face as she stepped away from him, ignoring the glare of Mike's on the back of her neck. "Someone has secrets?"  
"Very funny, it's a secret sex dungeon." When Jessie gasped at his crudeness, he reassured her in a very serious tone that he was joking. "It's something for the gallery and I'd like it kept secret until that date." Just as Michonne was ready to prod him some more, the ting of a time found it's way to their ears and Rick smiled at his obvious get out a jail free card. "Let's eat." As Jessie lead the way, Rick and Michonne sunk to the back. "I heard your stomach grumbling the whole time."

"Next time don't let your girlfriend interrupt meal time." Michonne stated, laughing at his face as the word girlfriend made its appearance.

* * *

"So, how is Andre?" Rick asked as he eased into his seat, Jessie's eyes sparkling at him from beside him. He reached over to get the roast vegetables and started to plate for himself. Jessie quickly took over, fluffing over him and plating for him instead.

Michonne gave Mike one look to tell him that she wasn't about to do that and they both, individually, made their plates.  
"Andre is good, we dropped him off to Michonne's mother." Mike responded. "I heard you had a boy, Carl, is it?"

Rick cleared his throat as Jessie sat down and planted a kiss on his cheek, before finally deciding to dish out her plate. "Yeah. He's away at his Mothers."  
"Jessie, do you have any kids?" Mike asked as the woman picked up her knife and fork. Sometimes, the constant look of surprise on her face when being spoken to rubbed Michonne the wrong way.  
"No, never really wanted some. But now, I'm rethinking my stance." She winked at Rick and giggled, causing Michonne to choke on her broccoli. Cue Mike patting her back and Rick leaving the table to get her a glass of water.

"Thanks, food just has a habit of going down the wrong hole I guess."

They chatted, with Jessie popping in and out with squeals where possible. Her hands always finding Rick's strong ones and gripping his arms, making him look at her whenever Michonne spoke.  
Eventually when all the plates were cleared, Jessie asked Michonne to help her bring them in as the men carried the cases of drink.  
"You know, sometimes you just have to make them feel masculine." She quoted, starting to wash the dishes.

Michonne leaned against the counter, taking in Rick's kitchen and the slowly gnawing feeling she had in her side. She turned to see Jessie looking at her, not sure whether the look was good or bad. "How long have you and Rick been friends? You seem really close." The statement was said with a bite to it, although it was sugar coated with her high pitch voice.  
Jessie turned away from her, continuing to wash the dishes, but Michonne could sense that there was tension – and the way Jessie's body was tight didn't help the situation.

"I don't know, less than a year, I think." Michonne tried to keep her voice level, but she didn't like interrogations, especially when she was aware she was being accused of something.  
"Well he said you met via Andrea, and there was four of you – including Shane. Almost sounded like a double date to me." The clanking of the dishes filled up the silence of the kitchen as Michonne bit her tongue and waited for the right words to find her. It almost made her chuckle, the sudden brazenness of the woman in front of her, that curled up in the lap of Rick like a kitten, but could bite like this.

"I'm sorry, I don't quite understand what you're trying to get at since I'm married." Michonne's arms folded as she walked towards Jessie, the woman's body now tighter than it had been before. The dishes were no longer her priority as she reached beside Michonne to wipe her hands on a tea towel. Her dough eyed face had to look up at Michonne, her eyes moved to a position between Michonne's forehead and the wall to the right behind her.  
"I'm just double checking, where you and Rick stand. That little stunt upstairs pressed me the wrong way and I just wanted it cleared up."  
"And so you thought getting at me instead of Rick was the best way to go about it? Besides, there was no stunt. Don't let your insecurities fester, it's not attractive."

Before Jessie could reply, her mouth open and flabbergasted, Rick walked in. "Hey, you guys finished up in here? Tables all set for fun games!" The atmosphere settled on his shoulders. "Is everything okay?" The worry in his voice made Michonne step back. She didn't want to ruin his fun.  
"Yeah, just helping Jessie with a few things. Are we good?"  
Her thin, tight lipped nod gave Michonne all the satisfaction she needed as she walked away, leaving Rick a little bewildered at what he felt in the air.

"Okay!" His voice boomed as they settled onto the table, all the drinks set in place. Beer, vodka, tequila, you name it. "Now we parents, and adults alike, deserve some fun time. So I have games upon games to play. Are you ready?"  
"I AM SO READY!" Jessie chimed, resting her head onto his shoulder and looking at Michonne for some sort of response, as if there were going to be any in the first place.  
They jumped from game to game, from the never have I evers to charades – where drink was incorporated somehow.  
They alternated from shots, to big glasses, to beer bottles and began to slur their words. They laughed at things that weren't funny and Michonne felt warm, looking at how everything worked in the moment.

She hadn't felt this light in so long. Her eyes fell onto Mike, who seemed to be leaning in and enjoying his conversation with Rick, clinking glasses at whatever he said and swaying to the jazz music in the background. Jessie had her arm around Rick's neck, looking lost in the clouds and moving out of time to the rhythm. But, Michonne felt here and buzzed and alive and it was good enough.

In times like this, where she was able to gather her thoughts, she thought about her situation. Where she would be had Mike not done what he had done. Would she have met Rick? Would she have met Andrea? Maybe, she'd have been at home with Andre watching him grow and waiting for Mike to come home like she had. Hopefully, she would have gotten sick of the waiting and done exactly what she had done now – but she knew that was just wishful thinking.

Eventually, the types of drunk people were started to reveal themselves and the messiest was of course Jessie's. Who took to flirting blatantly with Rick in front of them all, her hands flirtatiously sliding along his leg under the table to the point there he jolted and apologetically looked at them. Her lips found his neck and the underside of his jaw as he spoke to Mike and Michonne about the good old days and his cop stories started to tumble out – all exaggerated, as Michonne had heard them before without all these features of famous people.

"Let's dance!" Jessie screamed, getting up and stumbling on her feet. It was Mike that caught her as she began to pass out, her limp body small in his hands.

"Well that wasssss [hiccup] messsssyyyy!" Michonne stated, patting Mike on the shoulder as she stumbled next to him. "Bring… her… up!"  
Mike smiled a drunken smile and began to walk with her, then looked over at Rick. "You okay with it?" He laughed at the slowness in his voice.  
"Sure thaang man, just hurry back. More drinnksss!" Rick pointed the tip of his beer at Mike and stood up to hold the door open for him, almost tripping over his feet in the process. Mike had a near miss of hitting her head on the door frame and when he didn't, they all cheered as though he had just saved her life.

"We should… turn off the music in case she really needs to sleep." Both Rick and Michonne stumbled together to the speakers and turned them off. The room spinning as they stand looking at each other, both of them still and feeling as though the tension between them was aiding in sobering them up – but honestly, they were too far gone to sober up so soon.

Her smile mirrored his as they held eye contact and listened to the slow manoeuvring of Mike upstairs, probably trying to explain who he was and why he was having to lie her down and not Rick. Michonne hoped she wouldn't spill her guts out about why she was so suspicious of their friendship, or it would just cause more strain with Mike.  
Rick walked towards her, his bow-leggedness amplified in his drunken state. She couldn't help but find it cute and funny at the same time, her laugh loud. Rick hushed her as they stood less than a rulers width apart when he stopped, his finger finding her lips and causing her eyes to widen as the sensation it gave her.

"Sometimes and lemme say it because I'm drunk, we play gamesh, don't you think?" He was whispering, his eyes flickering over his face, the drunkenness making his eyelids heavy. Waiting for her response, he moved a lock from her shoulders and smiled at his own gesture. It was a half smile and it made her heart palpate so fast she was afraid it could be seen through her shirt.  
"Rick, you are so much more drunk than I am." She chuckled, tapping on the side of his arm. Despite playing it off cool, her hands were shaking. There was adrenaline in this moment. Anxiety from what he was going to say or do next, anxiety knowing that Mike was just upstairs.

"What did you do with that picture that made it so awkward to talk to me?"

His liquid confidence was outstanding and Michonne could only admire it. She wished she had downed more shots when the chance was there, so she could respond and know she could just blame it on the alcohol.  
Rick waited, throwing his hands through his hair. She noticed how this was the longest she had seen his beard grow and felt her cheeks warm at the realisation. The proximity between them didn't help as Rick swayed on his feet, still smirking, still holding the beer bottle in his hand.  
"Rick Grimes, I don't know what you're talking about." The crack in her voice gave her away and he chuckled, sexy and confident within himself.

"For a lawyer, you're not good at lying." He whispered this in her ear, a hand resting on the upper part of her arm. She wondered if he could feel the goose bumps that fell like waves on her skin. "It's okay. Sometimes I think about you…" Laughing at his confession, he bought the beer to his lips. "in a way that would make Mike mad. Or any man mad if they were with you. We're the same." Winking at her, he began to fall and Michonne quickly looped herself under his arm to hold him up.

"I hope you think about your girlfriend that way." She stated, walking them towards the couch. Once they sat down, Rick rested his head on her shoulders.  
"Sheesshh not my girlfriend… she's just… normal. Sometimes," he sighed, "I want exciting and when exciting comes my way, it's married and trying to make it work."  
Michonne laughs, brushing off the silly confession. "Could you be anymore drunk?" It was her only response, she was so unsure of what to say. Her mind skipped forward to tomorrow and whether she would remember this. But how could you forget something so dangerous?

Rick grumbled angrily into her shoulder and bolted up, looking down at her and staring her in the face, swaying so much that it forced Michonne to stand and steady him, placing her hands on his shoulders. "Michonne, I am serious. Listen to my tone." There wasn't much to listen to, but Michonne looked at him properly then. Saw something that she didn't wish she had seen. That his eyes were wider, and his lips were pursed together in some sort of determination to say what he needed to say and they stood in silence for what seemed like ages, Rick's beer dropping to the grown and clanking against the carpet as his eyes focused on her lips.

In another time, she would be in more control, her face or her hands would move, and her limbs would work to get her out of the situation. But now, she was frozen, and she thought in her partially drunken slumber that maybe it was because she was indeed drunk. And then she thought that maybe this wasn't the reason. And she was afraid that if that was the reason, all the other reasons that followed would make her like Mike.

She realised that the distance was closing between them, that his blue eyes were still focused on the cupids bow of her mouth.

And she waits for something within her to take action.

To not allow herself to go there.

And when the sound of Mike's footsteps find their way to her ears, it seems as though Rick finally lets go, slumping forward and narrowingly missing her lips to kiss her cheek, before all his weight is leant against her and small snores leave his mouth as his head rests on her shoulder.

This is the sight that Mike sees when he enters, wearing a questionable face.

"It seems like they both can't handle their drink." She states, her voice shaking with the adrenaline of it all. Michonne felt the quick thump of Rick's heart against her and almost couldn't believe the synchrony of them both. Because hers was beating just the same and the flow of blood in her ears almost deafened her when Mike began to speak.

* * *

Mike and Michonne had decided it was best to camp here tonight, finding a spare bedroom – which they assumed was Carls – and sleeping in it once they put Rick into bed.

Mike had not caught Michonne staring at Rick's face, the thought of what it would have been like to kiss Rick ever present in her mind.

It's not that she wanted to do it.

But it was an interesting thought.

Something she wouldn't act on – despite having been so close to the situation occurring.

In the morning, they awoke to the sound and smell of frying breakfast and they simultaneously pinched their heads. "Good night then, huh?" Mike murmered, planting a kiss on Michonne's temple before rolling out of bed and stretching. Michonne followed suit before they waltzed downstairs, surprised to find Rick vibrant at the stove and Jessie nursing a cup of coffee in her hands. Her groggy look told everyone to lower their voices as they spoke.

"Hey," Rick stated, scrambling eggs. "Eggs, toast, coffee. Simplest pick me up for a hangover. Sorry I wasn't able to be a good, responsible host." He still looked at Michonne the same way and acted normal, she wondered if… "I can't remember the events of last night from the last terrible charades 'Chonne done."

Her heart twisted.

She wasn't sure whether it was because she was happy that he didn't rememeber and that the awkwardness between them wouldn't have to occur, or whether it was because that meant what he said wasn't true. Or there was now no way to confirm whether it was.

"But did you have a good night?" Rick looked at her intently then, their eyes locked on to each other and for a second she was so sure she had him. Part of her wanted Mike and Jessie to leave, to have to do something together upstairs so they could have a few moments to speak. Her confidence not present when she was drunk, but now, when she was sober and wanting reassurance.

But, their stare and silent conversation was broken by Jessie taking the pan off from his hands and placing it on the table. To which Michonne took as a sign to sit at the table and plate up her food.

"I had a great night."

* * *

 **A/N: I'm finally here! I hope everybody is okay, you got a double update because I suck at writing every week like I'm supposed to. ButI'm on christmas break, so expect some more (hopefully).**


	14. Chapter 14

**108 days to the present:**

Michonne shook her left leg nervously as she watched Rosa find her notebook in the office. She wasn't as dishevelled as she had been two weeks ago – Mike had also come home the previous week stating that she seemed better, more aware.  
His session had been good according to him, enlightening even, and Michonne wished she would come out saying the same.

Her head had been foggy.

Ever since the small gathering, she had been in the clouds. But not in the best way. Not on the cloud nine that people who were in love often floated on, or people who finally found a way to live their dreams.

No.

It was raining where she was, the clouds were thick and grey and blurred her vision. She knew it correlated with that night, with the switch that occurred from Rick's drunken mess to the morning after, where every word had been forgotten.  
In the two weeks that had gone, she had seen Sasha and Andrea, who looked at her wearily, even questioning what was wrong. Michonne brushed it off, her voice less defiant than before whenever she said 'it's okay, I'm just tired'.

It was the truth.

It was tiring not knowing where her mind stood. She had been so sure of everything in her life. Of who she would marry, of when she would have a kid, of how to take care of the kid, even of what she wanted to work as.  
She even was sure of what she had done when she broke up with Mike after finding evidence of his cheating, and was even more sure of her reason for taking him back – Andre.

Rose finally sat down, fluffing around her skirt before crossing her legs and spreading a smile on her face.  
Although her smile was friendly, Michonne was afraid of the woman sat in front of her. This woman was the only one that could see the truth that lied within the back of Michonne's throat, and it always scared Michonne to be so open and raw.

It had dawned on Michonne as she lay awake the night before this meeting that it may be a small crush. Which was normal – at least she hoped Rose would tell her it too. It was normal to have crushes; the trick was just to not act upon them.  
She recognised the light butterflies, the poison of jealousy in her stomach lining when she saw Jessie kiss his jaw, her heightened pitch of laughter at only his jokes. Parts of her had not liked the bonding between him and Mike, they also didn't want to deny the jokes Mike threw her way at the expense of Rick and hers expense.  
The realisation – and partial acceptance – of this fact seemed to soothe a part of her. As if it was what she needed to move in a direction (although she unsure of which one).

"So how have you been Michonne?" The statement was relaxed and opened the room. Part of Michonne wanted to not react, to sit back and guard herself until the whole interaction got awkward enough for her to go home. But she fought against that, knowing it wasn't going to help in the situation.  
"Fine, not so eventful, but fine." She placed a sickly sweet smile on her lips and mirrored Rose's body language, crossing her legs.  
"You know, Mike says different." Michonne raises an eyebrow, sure the terms of confidentiality didn't match this. "I know, you're a lawyer. I'm not meant to disclose these things but… he does."  
In the back of her mind, she was sure this was meant to rock her world, put a shiver down her spine. Her man, her Mike, was so positive about them and where they were going, that she should be too.  
She was aware that part of her face was grimacing.

Rose waited for a response, flicking her eyes to her watch. Michonne didn't shift in her seat, the silence not affecting her. Her work had made her aware of the effectiveness of silence and she could bask in it without it shifting her mood.  
"You know, and correct me if I'm wrong but… you've been looking at checking out for a while." Rose tapped a pen on her notepad as she stared at Michonne as her breath hitched.

It wasn't as though this woman was speaking from inexperience, which scared Michonne. If it was so obvious to her, what did it look like to others?  
She contemplated whether to respond, cases like this in court never went well. When someone decided to speak and hadn't thought of their words, just spoke to defend and defend, it never came out right. The words were also laced in guilt, every time.  
Michonne was aware of the way Rose kept her body open at this point, her legs uncrossed, her arms on her lap. It wasn't meant to be a game and Michonne shouldn't have seen it as a game, but here she was, putting walls up. Aware that she was doing so.

Her mouth opened and closed, forming answers, then scrapping them for another sentence.

"Michonne, it's okay, to talk to me. I won't disclose this. I just think, speaking woman to woman, it could be easier." When Michonne didn't reply, her face still hard and her mind still caught up with all the potential actions she could take, Rose sighed. "Would it be better if I sat beside you, in a less professional manner? Like a friend maybe?" Michonne smiled at the effort Rose was making. Honestly, she didn't know what would work for her in this moment and she wasn't sure what to say to Rose. So she nodded and Rose came to sit beside her, kicking off her kitten heels and placing her feet on the coffee table in front of them. "I haven't been comfortable enough to do this for a long time. I hope this isn't a step too overboard?"

Michonne shook her head, feeling the tension in the room lower just a little bit. Whilst Rose remained silent, allowing the time to pass and for Michonne to follow her, resting her legs on the coffee table also and sighing as she closed her eyes.  
Closing her eyes reminded her of how she had laid awake last night, of the feeling of confusion in her head and her chest and how she didn't want it tonight. How she wanted to turn and sleep peacefully, knowing her mind wasn't falling apart at the seams.  
She needed to be better. A confused her, was a haphazard her, and it would infiltrate into work, into her care for Andre and her friendships and she was too far developed to have that happen again.

With one last sigh, she sunk into the sofa, a soft nod escaping her that was caught in the corner of Rose's eye. "So what has been going on Michonne? Where did the change come from?" It was asked nonchalantly, with no accusations, just genuine concern. It was rare these days for words to not be laced with these things and it made her feel comfortable.  
"I think it's… work. It's been getting to me." There it goes, the lie. The walls, being built higher and higher when the truth needed to be faced.  
She was tired of it. But she didn't want to correct her. She didn't want to have to save face. So her lips stayed tight as she awaited Rose's answer or question.  
"What about Rick?" His name stirred the butterflies that had been dormant in her stomach all morning. She hated the sickly feeling of it and wanted to despise what it meant, but couldn't make herself do such a thing.

Was it worth telling her all of this? The feelings associated, the understanding she had of what she indeed did feel towards him? What would she gain? Was there anymore clarity that could be given? All the decisiveness had left her bones, but she wasn't sure she would be able to take advice from a single person and roll with it.

Michonne wanted Oprah.

"Why do you think it's changed?"

Silence. Michonne's heart beats against her chest at a mile a minute and she's lost her composure. Her fingers rammed together in a nervous knot, her eyes no longer focusing but blurring the room.

"Why do you think you haven't learnt the who, the what, the when, the where, the why, the how Michonne?"

Silence and sweat pooled in Michonne's palms. There was no where to escape the questions that tumbled from Rose, endless and ruthless like waves on a rough day.

"What about Rick?"

"What is your marriage like?"

"Do you want to know who she is yet?"

"Why are you still here, counselling?"

Michonne's lid flew, an outburst erupting from her. If you saw her, not knowing the context, you would think the worst of her. Her spit flying out, her eyes venomous, her face scrunched into a form of anger and frustration no one knew was possible.  
"I DON'T KNOW!" She barked. "Everyone thinks they know. Mike, his mother, Sasha, Andrea… everyone BUT ME!" Michonne pointed at her chest then, right where her heart was pressing against her rib cages, threatening to break them at any moment.  
She noticed that Rose's body had tensed up, jumping at the initial outburst. Her limbs began to loosen as Michonne got control of her breathing, unravelling her muscles and sinking back into the chair, placing her face in her hands. "I'm sorry." She whispered after a minute had passed. At moments like this, she wished she were more like her mother, made of little but relevant words.

"That's okay." Rose placed a soft hand on her shoulder and squeezed, taking a deep breath before continuing. "Just… talk. Tell me how you feel. I'm sorry for asking all the questions at once it's just… you're so intelligent and I feel as though you know some of the answers." Michonne looked up at her briefly to exchange a smile, and turned back to rest her head in her hands.  
Closing her eyes, she tried to mentally map out her words in a coherent way.

"I am…" sighing, she turned to look Rose in the eye. "In a dilemma. This marriage was in one since the day he cheated on me and it just… got more complicated from there." It didn't come out as smoothly as it was in her mind, but she was talking. That must have been enough.  
It felt odd, to be in the other seat of things. Usually, she was interrogating.  
"With Rick?" Michonne's lips pursed in desire to be difficult. Her shoulders tensed, she was aware of it. Rose reassured her with a simple pat on the back.  
"It's nothing like what Mike did. Nothing has been acted upon… there is nothing much to act upon. It's a crush. That's all. Its normal, right?" The 'right' was added with a hint of insecurity, something that Rose picked up on. A soft nod prompted Michonne on. "I don't trust Mike. He hasn't given me any incentive to. He looks up your legs – if you haven't noticed – and flirts and… I wonder if he does it with other woman when I'm not around. At his work place, at the store. It never used to even cross my mind, but in the past whenever he left the house it would crawl up my throat and strangle me." She gave the physical action at the same time. Her hands grabbing her throat as she caught her breath. "Part of me got tired. All this counselling and I was still being rummaged with it all, you know? And I made friends along the way, saw what my life could be like without worry and I just took it because I could. Because I needed to. For Andre."

His name bought a smile to her face and a joyful whisper from her heart. Rose seemed to be nodding in time to her thoughts, carefully tasting her words before she produced them. "I've noticed. I thought you didn't. I was in no position to say such a thing. It has been interesting to watch both of your dynamics." Rose cleared her throat when Michonne didn't reply. "You mentioned Andre. Why was it for Andre?"  
Michonne almost bit her tongue but she figured she was so far gone that doing so would just be a disservice. "In the beginning, it was all for Andre. I was back with Mike, because of Andre."

"And why didn't you mention this in a session? It would have made things easier to overcome somewhat." Rose chimed in, curling her body onto the couch.  
"I didn't… it wouldn't have made things work. You and I both know that. It wouldn't have kept him around for Andre." Michonne shook her head, pressing fingers to her forehead. "At one point I had mentioned marriage counselling and he totally disregarded it. Then seconds later, when I had thought of how stupid it was, he went full steam ahead and done it." Clapping her hands together, Michonne got rid of her frustration.

Rose nodded understandably. "Is Mike a good man?"  
Her question scraped at Michonne's inside, like chalk on a board. Once upon a time, nothing but praise would have left her lips. Light would have shone from her mouth at the chance of talking about him. About how kind he was, how caring and loving. But now, it was tainted and she couldn't help but swallow the venom in her throat before she spoke. "He's a good father. Kind where necessary. Loving where necessary. To the right woman that doesn't know what he's capable of."  
She pursed her lips, comparing the old Michonne to the current Michonne, unsure of how comfortable she was in her skin. The taste of essentially bad mouthing Mike foreign to her in such a context.

"Do you think you could ever forgive him? If you knew the finer details? There would be some closure in that." Rose asked, looking at her intently.  
The thought of the finer details scared Michonne, made her wonder whether she was holding herself back and not helping the current situation. Before her knowledge of where she herself stood with Rick had found her a day ago, it would have been simpler. Had this conversation happened a week ago, she may have been able to brush her thoughts to a side and blame herself for not being open enough (that simple fact would be her answer as to why the marriage counselling didn't work). But it was different now, there were deeper things at work, a current beneath the waves.

"I'm too tired to forgive him. Too tired to fight the doubt. My mother talks about love with my father like it was a fairy tale and I thought I had that… I really did." Her voice broke and she took a minute to recompose herself. The months of hurt flooded back to her in a blaze and jabbed at her tear ducts. They made her eyes prick.  
"How does she describe him?"

Michonne chuckled, licking her lips. "Kind hearted, soft, just like her. A man of little words. He matched her perfectly. In company however, his voice would boom in a room and he would light up an audience just so she didn't have to force herself." Michonne sighed, shaking her head. "He was gentle and intelligent and looked at her with the kind of love people festered in their eyes when their world was coming to an end."  
It was hard to comprehend this. To open up so much about her past to a technical stranger. But here she was, doing it, the time ticking by like it didn't mean a thing.

"It's funny, because Rick reminds me of him, at times. Some people, they're just so soft, no matter how tough they want to be on the exterior. He's always been so transparent. Smart. Not as insecure as Mike has been the past few months." Her tongue got stuck between her teeth and she chuckled again, loosely this time. "I know Rose, I have a crush on this man. I'm in the process of overcoming it."

Air was sucked in between Rose's cheeks. "Michonne, excuse me for saying this, but do you think that maybe this marriage isn't meant to work?" The quick glance from Michonne made her place her palms out before her. "Hear me out. I've been in this game a while and sometimes… people force things that just aren't meant to be. Call it nature, the sinking ship fallacy, whatever… but it happens. And its not always healthy."

Rolling her neck, Michonne looked at the ceiling. "You sound so much like my cousin Sasha." She laughed, an easy laugh that was so light she didn't feel it pass her lips.  
Did she want to make it work?  
She understood the sinking ship fallacy. So much had been worked towards, years of her life wasted down a drain of lies and deceit. Would she just walk away? Would she even be able to start afresh?

Her mind envisioned Rick at the other end. But then it also envisioned Jessie. Michonne was still unsure whether Rick liked her back, the small drunken confession not enough for her as he seemed to forget it the next day. Their texts had flowed like normal after, as if nothing had ever happened.  
She was strong and independent. But she had been these two things before and it got hard. It was okay, she knew, to crave love. But it wasn't okay when it kept you up at night and made you wonder just what you were missing out on.

"Maybe, you should take a break from counselling." Michonne's eyes widened. "I'll tell Mike something that doesn't bring too much alarm."  
They sat in silence for a minute, both gathering their thoughts.  
"Michonne, you are a smart woman. I can't tell you where to go, I can only lead you to the water. Go with what makes you at peace, even if the beginning looks hard. The ending is what matters." Rose got up, stretching to the sky and slipping her shoes back on. She went back to her chair. "So many of my clients want answers, but I just lead them to their own truth."

Michonne thought about her own truth. About how it had tried to make itself apparent to her and how she had squished it down until it was nothing but a tight ball stuck between her ribs.  
"Does my truth make me a bad wife? Mother? Person?" She spat, almost ashamed of herself. Of what she could be potentially admitting.  
"You say that this is all for Andre?" Michonne's nod prompted her on. "Then make sure your happiness is at it's highest. It's what he feeds off. I've seen so many cases where kids have grown up and displayed negative traits all because their parents were unhappy where they were. You don't want to do that to him, do you?"

Tears sprung to Michonne's eyes as the clouds began to clear in her head. Things were looking brighter and brighter was good, for her, for him, for life.

"Thank you Rose."

All she needed was validation.

* * *

Michonne watched Andre as he slept, the clock hitting 14 minutes past 11. She breathed heavily. The session had been fulfilling. When Mike had asked her how it went, she had said it was eye opening and left it at that.

Looking at him now, the peacefulness on his face, she was determined to keep it there, for as long as she could.

So later, when she decided to tiptoe into bed, she curled and faced Mike. Watched the growing lines in his face that reminded her of how long they had been together. Listened to his breathing and figured how used she must have been to the sound. She placed a hand on his heart and winced at the strength of it. So out of tune with hers.

It wasn't as though she didn't love him. Parts of her did. Parts of her that are still able to ignore what he had done and what he sometimes continued to do when it suited her. But, all of her used to love him and she missed that feeling of security. The feeling of knowing you could fall back carelessly and the other person would be there to catch you.  
And it hurt, to realise where they were. She wanted to wake him up and ask him why. Parts of her wanted to know now so she could let go of whatever was still inside her. Delicately, she placed a finger on his cheeks, receiving a slight whimper from him in his sleep. They used to talk about what they dreamed about and she would pour her heart out, about the meanings of them, about how she saw them having more kids and it was a sure fire sign of their future. But she had been foolish. And she wished she hadn't been.

She wished she had never loved him. Had never settled down with him. But the by-product was Andre and she wasn't sure if she could ever love anything as much she did her son.

Her heart ached, fought with itself in her chest, trying to choose where to sit. She didn't want to feel this anymore, it was less than she was, she wasn't supposed to be here.

She would fix this.

She could fix all of this.

By leaving him.

But the thought terrified her to the bone.

* * *

 **A/N: Ooooh look, I'm on a roll.**


	15. Chapter 15

This story is beginning to wrap up and I hope that I give people what they need from this story. But this chapter is necessary for character growth, however I'll let you into a secret - THE NEXT chapter is the one you really want

* * *

 **78 days to the present:**

Michonne had worked up the ability to go through with it.

It being the manoeuvring of divorcing Mike.

She knew she had sinking ship fallacy, had seen it so many times herself and swatted at the air around her, thinking 'Gosh, how could someone stay just because of time?'.

Trying to rationalise, she bought in all the contexts in which her situation differed, there was a child that she needed to look after in the beginning, she wasn't the same. Stronger, that was it.  
Although it hurt her to think of the façade she was putting on in the moment.

Having been in law, she was up to date with what was required of her – and whatever she didn't know, google had a great answer for anyway. All she had to do in the month that passed was wait and when she was sure, sure that she could sign on the dotted line and tell them to serve him the papers. All of her details in check, her taxes, her will – yes she had one – anything really.

The look of people's eyes didn't surprise her as she told them. A small smile spreading on Sasha's lips as she reached over and touched her hand, followed by Andrea's yelp the following day in the breakroom at the office.  
"You can't tell Shane, not yet. He'll tell Rick and then Rick will probably prod me for not telling him first." Michonne half joked, stating that was the reason, but it wasn't. It ran deeper than that, but she wasn't in the mood to think about all the twists and turns. She just wanted this done.

"But I tell him everything!" Andrea pouted, her bright red lipstick making it even more apparent. Michonne rolled her eyes and stared at her until she crumbled, "Fine! But if he gets mad at me, I'm sending him your way."  
"Andrea, you and I both know you'll be all in his way when he's mad because that's how you like it." They giggled among themselves until another co-worker entered, forcing them out of their comfortable space.

That had been about a week ago. Now, she was tapping her foot excitedly waiting for Rick to enter the café. It was her lunch break and she had a good stretch of time – thank goodness her boss wasn't in today – to sit and talk to him. Their order was on the way - she had read the contents out to him over the phone, already knowing the three top things he could order but letting him decide anyway.  
Her eyes flickered expectantly from her phone, where she read through the local news like she usually did, and the door, waiting for his blue eyes to waltz along the room until they found her. She liked the way he always smiled when he found it. It made her feel warm. Wanted even.  
Unsurprisingly, she found herself smiling back at him instantly or smiling even before he did if she found him first.

The ring of the door opening perked her up and her hairs stood on end at the breeze that it bought in with it, but there he was. Hair slicked back a little, beard bigger than ever – she liked it – and bags under his eyes, but… he was still soft. Rick was still there.  
Their conversation had been staggered over the past month, with her busy getting everything sorted for the divorce and him painting and sorting out the gallery. Their texts weren't as frequent, she hadn't seen him for a single jazz session since the last time they had even gone to one. But it was okay, they didn't own each other, they were not obliged to such things – yet knowing this didn't help the want of it.

"Hey," he slid into the seat, the spread of his lips matching hers. "It's so nice to see you, in the middle of a week day, this never happens!" Laughing, he brings his hands to the table.  
"You look- " Michonne began, almost stammering over her words, trying to figure out which way she could go. She was excited, deep down, about the new aspect of freedom these divorce papers would give her – although, she had to remind herself that not only was it not finalised or even known by Mike, but that Rick was in something… not a relationship in his words so far, but something. Michonne knew who she was and she wasn't who her mind wanted her to be at the moment.

"A mess!" Rick chuckled as the waitress walked in from behind him, carrying their food. She also placed down a coffee, in which Rick almost stopped her to stay he hadn't ordered.  
"I ordered it for you, idiot. I knew you'd come in here looking like you hadn't slept for days." Michonne rolled her eyes and picked up her bagel, both of them holding eye contact as they held their food. "What?"

"You seem lighter," Rick leaned in, resting his elbows on the table and skimming his eyes over what he could see.  
"You seem lighter." Michonne mimicked his voice, causing him to kick her under the table playfully.  
"Seriously," he munched on his sandwich, making a questioning face. "What's up Michonne?"  
Her playful side came out as she watched him then, looked at the eagerness on his face at the possibility of not knowing something so important. She was aware of their friendship, how deep it ran, how much they knew about each other to the point that they could tell the other emotions just by the aura they let out.

"You really want to know?"  
"'Chonne, if you make me use foul language, I'll tell my mother."  
"Oh no!" Michonne laughed effortlessly. "I'm… I'm getting a divorce."

Rick choked on his drink, then recovered just as quickly and watched her. After eating another bite of his sandwich and Michonne avoiding eye contact, he spoke. "A divorce? Michonne, are you sure?"  
His response didn't rub her the right way and he could tell, the tone sour around the table. "What'd you mean am I sure?"  
He rolled his eyes and leaned back into his seat. "Nothing. I'm just saying, divorce is a big thing. Have you told him yet?"  
"And what do you mean by it's a big thing?" She wouldn't let it go and Rick knew that, she watched him as he tried to gather his words.

"You stayed for Andre. I know how divorce goes. I just wanted to know that you were sure about this, that's all. I'm happy for you, getting to this decision. I just wanted to make sure it was fuelled for the right reasons, you know? So you don't leave with any regret left." His smile at the end made her falter a little, knocking down the bricks she had built ever so quick in the session between them.

"It's time. His mother hates me, horrid woman by the way, totally has … old discriminatory beliefs that she tries to enforce. And I… I think a marriage is full of love. It's full of smiles and laughter and sometimes – not all the time – a jolt or spark or whatever you want to call it. It died… a long time ago. And I fooled myself into thinking I could stay. I fooled myself and am stopping myself from finding someone who can give me what I want." It was a weight off of her chest, like the releaseof an anchor from the sea floor. She felt heat in her cheeks from what felt like a confession, but she had covered it with vagueness. Trying to lighten the mood, she joked instead, "Plus, I'm a lawyer, I make good decisions." Michonne jabbed, having the final piece of her bagel.  
"Hey! Ordinary people like me make good decisions too." Rick slightly smacked the table, causing their cutlery to jitter.  
"What's good with Jessie?" Michonne teased, his eyes suddenly moving to everything in the room but her.  
"If you ask Carl, nothing." He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. His shirt pulling up above his stomach a little. "He just doesn't bond with her at all. Gosh, I thought I bought him up better."  
"He's a good kid. Kids just have a sixth sense."

They continue to talk, Michonne feeling something new set in her bones for the first time in a long time. She panged slightly, at the conversations where Jessie popped up. They were moving slowly, Rick sheepish and shy and sparing her the details. 'I haven't seen her for a while,' he said, talking about how she moved like a busy body when he was painting one time and he just couldn't have her around again.  
They came back to the topic of Michonne's divorce, her eyes sparkling, her confidence high.

"I hope you find more happiness." Rick said as he leaned into her car door for an embrace that left both feeling breathless with anticipation.  
It left Michonne giddy with a feeling of confidence, she had people beside her, she had Rick rooting for her. Today was the day.

Her keys entered the door and she breezed through, taking in a deep breath with her eyes closed. Her mouth opened, reciting the words she had said to herself in the car. Closing the door behind her, she stood in the silence, her mind clear until… _sniffle._

What? Andre? Why would Andre not be napping? Why would he be in the living room?

She walked quickly, ready to question Mike.

But she didn't have to.

It was Mike. His hands in his head. His shoulders shaking.

"Mike?" He shivered at the sound of his name. When he didn't answer, she tried again. The confidence within her depleting every second that went by. Her recited words moving from her head. What was this? Was there another confession to come? And if there was, how would she deal with the rage of waiting around so long? How would she forgive herself again? Michonne added base to her voice, demanding. "Mike, we need to talk but first I need you to tell me what's wrong."

Looking up at her, his eyes red and his lip quivering.

"My mum… she's dead."

And like that, Michonne's plan was put to a halt.

* * *

 **48 days to the present:**

Her head hung in shame because here she was, papers still at the ready.

Mike's shoulders shook at night as much as they did at the funeral.

Rick held his tongue and stretched his lips to a smile that broke Michonne's heart with the disappointment that underlined it.

Andrea and Sasha didn't say a word.

* * *

 **26 days to the present:**

"Michonne, everyone's getting tired of knowing all that you can do and you not doing it." Abe said down the phone, the gruff in his voice followed by a 'damn right!' from Sasha in the background. Michonne pressed the phone harder onto her ear. "You're a smart woman, but sympathy isn't going to make reality go away. You must face up sooner or later. Or you're going to have nobody left."

Michonne's face crumbled at the realisation and she blabbed on until she put the phone down.

 **23 days to the present:**

* * *

Michonne laughed at Carl's brazen approach.

"That Jessie woman, I just… she laughs at Dad's jokes and he isn't even funny. Does that seem real to you?" His animated eyebrows shot up and his eyes stared at her, pushing her towards the response he wanted.  
"Well I laugh at your Dad's jokes," Michonne ruffled his hair, erupting an irritated sigh from him.  
"Yeah, but yours is genuine!" Carl huffed and took a twirl of his hair, putting on a high strung voice. "My name is Jessie and I'm so in love with Dad I don't even remember Carl's in the room!"

"Hey!" Rick's voice boomed in the doorway behind them, causing Carl and Michonne to freeze like deer in headlights. "What was that?" They both jumped over their words, until Rick swatted his hand in the air to dismiss them, smiling as he did so. He scooped up Andre, pretending to steal his nose in the process, until sniffle started to escape his real nose. "Hey, it's okay! Here, I'll give to Carl and he'll give it back to you, okay?"

Both of the boys escaped upstairs, leaving Rick and Michonne to sit gingerly on the couch, facing each other as they moved into comfortable positions, both resting their heads on their hands.  
They sat in silence for a minute or two, not saying anything, managing to only focus on the silence caught in between the sound of the boys playing and cars outside.

Michonne felt the urge to apologise then. This thing… it was dragging out too long. She could see the hope dimming almost, in the back of Rick's eye, like the last slither of the sun before the sunset was all gone and the cold of the night set it in. It shook her.

'Or you're going to have nobody left' Abe had said so defiantly, like he was so sure he knew the future. It had played on her mind for days.

When her cheeks began to get heated and her eyes began to swell, his hands placed themselves on the top of her knee and red rimmed his eyes also. It was as if he understood what she was thinking, feeling, exactly. Wordlessly. And it was moments like this where she hated herself. Hated her kindness, the ability of her mind to wonder in the night and think 'what if' about leaving Mike and whether she would be his demise – he was so fragile nowadays, crying and crying, wanting to die over the smallest things. That she was afraid. She hated that she was afraid.

"I want to Rick. I'm not in love." He nodded as though he understood and his hand slid a little higher, causing a hitch in Michonne's breath, to which she struggled on. "All I have to do is show them to him, right in his face. Say here, here is the end of us. You know?" Rick's eyes darted around her face, taking in the soft crinkles that appeared whenever she had to stop herself from crying.

He was understanding. Or he was trying to be.

"Things have happened at once and you're trying to deal with them, sometimes life gets in the way. You're doing the best you can and I know you'll do what's right." The pricking of tears made her eyes sting and blur, receiving a nervous laugh from Rick. "I stayed with Lori and it was so negative. She cried all the time, for forgiveness and I felt as though I would end her world by leaving. But when I stayed, that resentment, it made me mean. I started to hate her, us, the house and… I don't want you to come out of the other end like that 'Chonne, I want you to stay bright. For me."

Michonne clambered over to him, folding into his shoulder like an old home.

* * *

 **3 days to the present:**

The crying had stopped.

The shaking of shoulders had stopped.

And they started again when Michonne dropped the papers in front of his face on the table as he ate lunch, the audible smack making Andre jump in his sleep in the corner.

'I want a divorce' Michonne had said, strong and steady, the quiver she had thought would be in her voice not present.  
His emotions were readable on his face, from shock, to horror, to anger, to shock, to the five stages of grief in under 30 seconds.  
She didn't want to argue it, watched him babble and fall over the words in his mouth, all the excuses, the naïve thoughts that they were indeed working towards something good and better than they'd ever been. She mentioned that they were tainted, that there would be nothing as good as they were.

And he mentioned Rick's name.

Then took it back when Michonne stared in his face.

Then he requested once more for a marriage counselling session. To try and change the tune. And if nothing could be done there, he would sign, he would make it as easy as possible for her to leave and to be happy.

And so Michonne agreed, knowing what she would want to know in the session and how it would end. Picking up her bag and Andre delicately, giving him time to relish in the news on his own, like she had for some time now.

She found herself at Rick's, babysitting while he spent his time in the gallery, coming down stairs every half an hour or so, splashed in paint that made him bright and wonderful to look at.  
"Dad, I'm a big boy, I can offer Michonne and Andre drinks, you keep working."

Rick's eyes still flickered to Michonne's, where he smiled apologetically and ran back upstairs, until his return late in the afternoon where they would sit on the sofa, a small glass of wine in hand and reminisce about small things.  
"You know, this year has been big for me." He said aloud, present but not really, somewhere wondering the fields in the back of his mind. "Like I met you and I'm doing this, and you got an ear piercing and a new found freedom. Hopefully… I hope it comes easy."

"Me too." Michonne sighed, resting her neck on Rick's shoulder, staring lazily at the glass of wine.

"He's still an asshole for giving you the ultimatum of counselling though."

Michonne laughed at the unapologetic swearing that left Rick's lips.


	16. Chapter 16

**THIS IS (ALMOST) IT. I love you all.**

* * *

 **1 day to the present:**

Michonne pressed on the door of the gallery, Andre in tow. She swore she could feel the energy of Rick inside simply from doing it, her fingertips buzzed from a source she couldn't wait to see.  
"Hello!" She shouted over the sound of hoovers, cleaners still in the building.  
To her surprise, Rick was among them, sweat covering his brown shirt, a smile spread across his face as he turned his hoover off and bound towards her. It ended up with him picking her up and swirling her in the air, the feeling of him hot against her as he slid her back down to the ground. They stayed looking at each other, the giddy look on Rick's face matched hers and they separated, laughing.

"Well someone's really happy to see me." She stated, looking over his shoulder to Carl to followed behind him with a broom.  
"Yeah I-" Rick began to reply, before seeing she was indeed talking to Carl. He shook his head in bewilderment and took the broom from Carl. "Nah, he's happier to see Andre, amiright?" Carl nodded sheepishly, holding his arm out to see Andre.

As they bundled off together, Rick updated her on the current timeline of his show. He was happy. Talked about the paintings he would put where and what they meant, leaving her anxious and fascinated at what was to come. When she asked about the big painting, wondering what he could paint that would take up that much space, he pressed a finger to her lips, his blue eyes dancing with something so electric she wanted it too. She wanted to share it with him in any way possible. It was infectious.

"So who's on the list?" Michonne asked as they spoke in the storing cupboard, searching for mops to help alongside the cleaners – Rick's generosity made her want to help also.  
"Well," he heaved out two mops, following with a bucket. "friends, family."  
"Jessie?"  
"Mike?"

Michonne looked at him wearily, to which Rick prodded her softly on the thigh with the end of the mop. "Yes Jessie is coming. You?"  
"Mike… no, I don't believe so."  
"Huh," they left the storing cupboard, Rick kicking the door closed behind them. "Well that's a shame." Rick pressed softly on her shoulder, making her turn towards him. "Look 'Chonne, this is my event and I want you to enjoy yourself tonight. I ordered cheap champagne for you," he leaned in closer, his breath on her ears, "and fucking canapes, okay? So you enjoy it."

They continue to work together, between cleaning and unloaded a truck full of Rick's paintings. He touches them delicately, his hands smooth over their frames. It made Michonne stare at his hands as they sat together, taking a break and fanning themselves with scrap paper.  
"I'm proud of you." Michonne said, keeping herself from reaching over and pouring her hands over his, grazing her thumb over the veins that popped from them and his knuckles that stood so prominently. Rick smiled in between a bite of his sandwich. "You make me want to do things-" his cheeks hazed red before Michonne stumbled out her next words, "Like to be better, than I am. To take steps."

"We're lucky you met Andrea when you did then, or else we wouldn't have ever met really." Rick whistled. "It's weird when you think about it that way. Someone so significant and you just… wouldn't have met them."  
Their eyes are restless, scouring each other, not blinking, trying to look for a sign. All these words and actions, they all meant something, didn't they? Or maybe they didn't.  
With Rick in something and Michonne getting a divorce, there was nothing for anything to mean, because it wouldn't be right. Not yet. Would it?  
Rick held his hand out, to which Michonne gingerly placed hers into.

This moment felt like it should have been more private, in an open gallery where their kids could run around the next minute. But it also felt innocent, with nothing more to it than some sort of admiration, mutual as it was.  
"In the time I've known you, you've made me a better man that I thought I could ever be."

Her heart shuddered at the sincerity of it.

Her mind went blank, clean, like the universe before the big boom.

She was barely holding onto the ledge that kept of her from falling. Her grip was so loose and if she was careless, she wouldn't be able to control herself.  
Rick looked peaceful, his face turned away from her now as he gazed at the space where his big painting was going to go. He almost seemed so proud of it already, that it left her wanting to know what it was already. Wanted to take a peak and betray him just a little bit so she could share his glow.

Her mouth opened to respond when she was sure enough time had passed for him to have his peace, "Rick, do you ever-"

But it was interrupted by the sound of running feet and breathlessness.

"Dad, Momma's here!" Carl beamed, not even phased from the soft twitch of Rick and Michonne's hands departing.

* * *

It wasn't so much that his mother intimidated Michonne.

It was just the fact that she was always hyper-aware of when someone had the same underlying current that she had. That zest. That bite. The ability to switch to someone with short smart answers, wrapped up in a present so colourful and bright you wouldn't expect a thing.

Rick's mother presented herself formally. A nice black dress lay on her, along with a cardigan. She wore bright red lipstick and nail polish to match, with a red flower patterned silk scarf to cover her neck. You wouldn't have been able to guess the womans age, save for the prominent pout that formed on her lips and the wrinkles that surrounded them.

But Michonne liked her even before she opened her mouth, she had a zing to her that almost made her want to ask Rick what growing up with a mother like her was like.  
"Rick, my boy!" Her walk was brisk, pulling to a halt when her left arm extended and pulled him into a hug, to then kiss his cheek and leave a red stain for everyone to see.  
Carl prodded a rustling Andre, sniggering, resulting in Andre mimicking him.  
Michonne was aware of the flush arriving in Rick's cheeks as he glanced her way.

Although they both knew he was a momma's boy, he didn't like it being shown in public displays of affection.

Her kiss soon found Carl's cheek, after she had ruffled his hair and took a bar of chocolate out her bag. "And you share it with your little friend, okay?" She nodded kindly at Andre, before averting her eyes to Michonne.  
"His name is Andre," Michonne interjected, smiling down at the woman before her. It was immediately reciprocated.

"And you're Michonne." His mother reached for a hug almost instantly, and Michonne could just about see the twitching of Rick's hand. Her shoulders almost shook with a giggle.  
"So Rick's introduced me without me knowing? I was counting down the days to meet you!" Michonne joked, a laugh finding its way to her.  
"Yeah, he's been speaking about you for a while. Even with that Jessie girl… whom I still have to meet." Her eyes flickered to him, judgement sitting at the rim. With the way her mouth sneered, it was almost as though she knew something Michonne didn't and the look of warning on Rick's face almost made her want to ask what it was.

"You'll meet her later." Rick commented sternly.  
"You probably won't like her though," Carl stated absent-mindedly, concentrating partially on a game of Rock, Paper, Scissors with Andre. "I don't."  
Rick sighed, obviously having gone through the conversation over and over again with Carl for him to keep his opinions to himself. His mother remained interested however and prodded Carl for details of what the woman was like and what she did with him.

Her frown grew deeper and deeper.

"You know!" Rick finally interrupted, slapping his hands together to jolt them all away from the interesting confessions of a naïve, honest Carl. "It's time to get ready, how about we get on out of here? Mum, are you coming home with us?"

She waved her hand in the air. "Son, I gotta lot to do and a lot to see." Picking her handbag up from the floor, she gave a final kiss to Carl and placed a hand on Andre's head.  
When she finally leaned in to hug Michonne, her tiptoes pressed her up almost to her ears. "You save him from that Jessie girl, a'right?"

It took a while to convince Rick that his mother hadn't said a thing.

* * *

Michonne looked at herself in the mirror. Focused on the way that the breeze coming through the bathroom window felt on her back, available through a tight open back dress that didn't allow her to breathe as smoothly as she wanted to.

But it was okay.

She felt good, within herself.

A lot had happened. This day was a symbol of that. Having to stand here and listen to the ruffling in the next bedroom as Rick slammed his drawers looking for clothes to wear after he had finally got Carl dressed and ready.

Here they were, almost a year later of knowing each other, having been there for the small and not so small parts of each other's lives. She wanted to do more than simply stand and applaud him, because she had seen the work he had put behind this. The courage. The release of anxiety that he had threaded in his bones. The self-doubt embedded from the fooling of his ex-wife gone. Completely.

But wasn't she there already?

It felt as though the self-doubt that had come with Mike cheating had lessened dramatically. Especially since handing the divorce papers to him.  
It was difficult, returning home, working around each other. Although the had been that way for some time, in their own odd way whilst trying to reconcile the relationship, now the impending ending of divorce hung over them like a cloud.

Her bags hung low in the mirror.

Her posture wasn't as straight as it normally was.

And she knew that it was because she was tired. Tired of what she had become. Tired of waiting for things to get better, or for things to look a certain way for her to be happy. But she was going to be happy now. Watching her friendships grow, watching Andre grow and watching everything get better.

Even if she experienced it all alone.

A soft rap on the door removed her from her thoughts and she went to open it, receiving a whistle as she did. "Well someone is trying to outdo the main guy tonight." Her warm smile almost melted Rick's heart as he leaned on the outside wall, waiting for her to respond. "The kids are getting sleepy, so I think we should hurry up and get there to excite them, you know?" As they began to walk towards the stairs, she paused, his body instantly knowing turned around to face her/

There was a sort of delicacy in the moment that they wanted to leave alone. To feel fluttering in the gaps between their pores and crawling along their veins ever so lightly, like feathers in the wind. But they knew their time was limited and that if they waited for too long, no one would say a thing and it would all go to waste.

This memory would go to waste.

"You're really… something." Rick said breathlessly, his eyes danced in a pattern of stars Michonne had never seen in the constellations she knew. "But, I'm not going to babble now, that's for the speech I've prepared." His joke didn't break the tension that hung in the air, like clothes on a line, it stayed and swayed between both of them.

"You're something yourself Rick. You've achieved what you've wanted to." It almost hurt Michonne to say, because inside, part of her felt like she had wasted a year. Salvaging broken pieces of her into a picture that wasn't even necessary anymore. All that time wasted and wasted.

"Hey." Her eyes found his as he stepped closer, the cool smell of him making her stomach churn. Like coming home to Mike used to make her stomach churn. Like films where the girl doesn't get the guy but get's the right one for him instead makes her stomach churn. "You've done what you've wanted to, and you know. You're too beautiful to waste away in perfection." His sloppy smike grabbed her heart in a fist and squeezed and squeezed until the only logical thought that her brain had was pressing him against her, so he could feel what words like that did to her.

And Michonne almost cried.

For the heart-breaking realisation of what she felt came in like a crashing force against her wind pipe, robbing her of all the oxygen she had retrieved from the world.

And the heart-breaking realisation that Jessie may keep him to her chest meant that these feelings that plagued her when he said such things were wrong for her to feel.

She sniffed, pushing herself back from him before putting on a smile.

"We should get going."

* * *

"Michonne, I don't like adult things." Carl whispered as he held Andre's hand, watching the people arrive from the side-lines whilst Rick shook their hand and smiled, the sheepish grin on his face letting her know that his stomach was doing somersaults.

He had been so nervous before the people had arrived, biting his lips and twitching his fingers. "Your art is good Rick." She had commented smoothly, placing a hand on his back and rubbing ever so slightly so he would remember it.

"Neither do I. But don't tell your Dad." Her gaze scanned the crowd as the boys began to fiddle beside her, sneaking food from the table behind them and prodding each other, eliciting squeals from the other. She let them play. She knew the tension in the house must have gotten to Andre somehow and she needed him to relax.

Eventually Jessie arrived, her bubbling demeanour allowing her to place a plant on Rick's cheek and stand directly beside him, greeting guests as if they were hers. Michonne could have rolled her eyes if it weren't for the return of Rick's mother, dramatic in a faux fur coat that she only unbuttoned after making sure to hug Rick. Her stance was a distance from Jessie and Michonne could see her doughy cheeks sinking from the loss of excitement as Rick's mother spoke to her. A quick glance to Rick's face confirmed that whatever she was saying was not easy.

Eventually, she sauntered over to Michonne, a very obvious look of disdain on her face. "You know, it's a pity your married."

Michonne almost asked her why, but decided against it, instead joking with the woman about the look of her son as he stood and shook everybody's hand.  
"He has his fathers bow legs you know?" The soft smile that reached the woman's lips reminded Michonne of the way her own mothers features would change when speaking about her father.  
"You smile just like my mother does when she speaks about my father." Michonne commented, whilst picking up a finger food behind her.  
Her smile widened. "It's nice to be able to have a conversation with a woman Rick is around, it reassures me somehow."  
"How so?"  
"He's not so good at expressing himself and to have someone there, helping him break down his thoughts, it lets me know my son won't change anymore than he did last year. Which I'm presuming you know about…"

Both woman's faced grimaced in unison, facing forward to watch the rest of the people walk in. As they chattered away the people who would make her shoulders relax arrived.  
Andrea and Shane bounded to Rick, taking up his attention as they did so and causing him to forget there were other guests strolling in that he wasn't acknowledging. But they did exactly what they did for her, to him, relaxing his shoulders – and Shane giving him the odd bruise from a punch on his arm.

"Michonne!" Andrea hugged her, bright lipstick characteristically covering her lips as the smell of perfume coated her. "This is amazing, isn't it? Shane has tried for so long to convince him to do such a thing!" Following this point, she embraced Mrs Grimes in a hug. "You look breath-taking."  
"As do you, Andrea." Mrs Grimes eyes scanned the room, perking up as she spotted a person in the crowd. "Well Shane dear, this is my cue to leave. I'll see you all very soon."

As Shane waved her off, Andrea carried on with her commentary. "And who are you looking good for Michonne?" Her eyebrow raised and her eyes trailing her body, Andrea's dramatic side displayed itself in a delightful manner. "And can you please tell me who that woman is at Rick's heel?"  
"Jessie." Shane sighed, sinking his arm around Andrea's waist and shaking his head. "I mean, I thought she was somewhat… should I save the guy?"

As if on cue, the doors shut, and Rick spoke to Jessie in hushes tones. Her face turning from happy, to somewhat understanding, to stroppy in a matter of seconds. The whistle from Shane's mouth acted like a stamp, letting them know that whatever was to follow was more of less going to be against Rick Grimes wishes. None the less, they continued.

Whilst they walked, Rick's eyes flickered to her direction, the small gleam in it delighting some part of her brain that pressed the centre of her stomach with a deep urgency.  
It was hard to describe.  
Like the feeling of knowing that today was going to be the hardest day of your life, but you had to get through it. It was an ache. But an ache that motivated you to be human and to be more than you thought you could ever be.  
She watched him walk into the crowd, his bow-legged frame chased by a small, dough eyed doll that did nothing but look forward with a withdrawn smile, as if to say that this was their moment and not his. And it irked Michonne somewhere deep and primal, but her smile stayed unjaded, even by the small remarks that Andrea made to Shane so close to her.

With a microphone in hand, Rick cleared his throat, relieving the jittering noises of hushed, unsteady conversations that surrounded him. The heat rose in his face from all the attention and she liked the innocence of it. Almost wanted to be beside him and tell him it was okay.  
His blue eyes scanned the crowd again, fearful but looking, for something, something that he could have to press on to the task at hand.

He found her, near to the front of the crowd in the direction he was now facing. The small line that hooked onto the corner of his lips tugged them into a half smile in Michonne's direction, and the small nod she gave him didn't go unnoticed – by a few parties – but gave him what he needed to begin.

"Hey, everybody, thank you for coming."  
"You're welcome!" Shane replied, getting a dig in the ribs from Andrea's elbows and a few sniggers from the crowd. Rick's shoulders relaxed even more as Jessie teetered beside him, peering over his shoulder to the direction of the crowd he was facing.  
"Uh, I didn't plan a speech or anything and I was never good in English class, so don't expect an Oscar winning speech." The crowd laughed at the awkward joke and although his eyes had placed themselves towards the ceiling, they bounced to look at Michonne again, softening, just like his anxiety… and his heart.

"I… uh, done this, really, because of a bet I had. And this bet, it was meant to be a small step in the right direction. And… I had been so stagnant for such a long time that I thought it would be forgotten about. But it wasn't… which pressed me to be better than I was." He took a sip from his champagne, his tongue rolling nervously. "You need people like that, people who inspire you, to be a better person than you ever thought you could be."

It was getting uncomfortably warm for Michonne.

Rick's eyes didn't forget to crawl along the lines of her face and to take in the dark nail polish that clung to her fingernails.

But they did forget about the rest of the crowd.

And Michonne was sure that by the hitch of Andrea's voice and the small breath-filled laugh that left Shane's mouth that it hadn't gone unnoticed.

"This year could have been the worse year of my life if I had let it. But I met someon- some amazing people that expanded my horizon. And some of these people were so beautiful and all they needed was some consistency and nurturing. And I hope I gave them enough of that." He cleared his throat and his voice was clearer, less shaky as he spoke again. "I was lucky to grow with such a person and I would do it for years to come."

Rick didn't correct his mistake this time.

So when his eyes finally ripped away from her and turned towards the covered, large painting behind him, Michonne felt naked and oddly cold. As if something in her had malfunctioned and she didn't know how to react.

Not to the look that Jessie danced between the both of them, filled with confusion and an odd hope at the same time. Or the pressing of Andrea's finger into the palm of her hand. Or to the look of Rick's mother just to the left of her, that displayed a soft, but knowing look that was dangerous to begin with.

"I paint as I feel… and this… this day took up the greatest parts of me." He hesitated at the string, looking around the room for a form of reassurance.  
"Well pull it!" Shane screeched from behind, jeering the crowd to laugh again and Rick to relax his shoulders.

Michonne still stared at him in an odd awe, waiting, enticed, wondering just what it could be if he had even hidden it from her for so long. Her hands twitched by her side as she restricted the urge to play with her hair – an automatic go to whenever she felt too out of control in a situation.

She closed her eyes instinctively as the sheets were pulled down, her heart racing. Whatever was behind there, was the most meaningful thing to Rick Grimes. His sweat and frustration would be placed in front of her and she couldn't even begin to guess what it would be.  
Would it be beautiful?  
Would it be something that she knew?  
And if it was something that she knew, what would that mean?

The way he had looked at her do diligently made her wonder whether she was alone in the small feelings that quaked inside her heart. Beating and beating so fast she was sure it could be seen on the outside, and if the room hushed enough, it might be possible that they could hear it.  
The moment she opened her eyes, they blurred, and her breath got caught in her throat and swelled to the size of a golf ball.

It was the night of the fair. A Ferris wheel shone bright amongst a starred sky, people scattered holding cotton candy and gifts from nearby stalls that lined the picture.  
Some people's faces rose in question, wondering why such a thing that anyone could see would matter so much, but it made sense to her.

It was clearer.

And the clarity was bittersweet, because it reminded her of how much time she had wasted trying to be something she wasn't.  
Trying to make something work that couldn't.  
But here something was, right in front of her and she was unsure whether this counted as a confession, whilst the girl that called herself his stood behind him, confused but grinning because that was all she could do.

The look on Rick's face was filled with unexplainable, a mix between wanting and longing and the inability to have either. Because of timing. Because of pain. Because of the inability for someone to leave quick enough.

Had the feeling faded?

Was this his way of reminiscing on what once was and what could no longer come? Was this his way of saying goodbye.

The room spun in front of Michonne, so much so that she teetered on her feet and pressed a hand to her head.  
"Hey, you okay?" Andrea touched her elbow, looking at her wearily.  
Managing to nod, Michonne painted a false smile on her face and looked behind them. "Yeah, I just need to sit in the office, I'm feeling a little light headed."

As she manoeuvred her way through the crowd, she heard Rick give his finishing speech, mentioning to others for them to enjoy themselves and mingle.

The sound of her beating heart made its way to her ears.  
Her fingers shook with adrenaline as she opened the office door, closing it softly behind her and then crashing her hands onto the desk. She lowered her head, waiting, knowing what was to come.

The soft click of the door opening made her weak, her legs threatening to give way beneath her.

The day she was so unsure about, that had creeped into her dreams and made her feel guilty when she woke up for months since that day too.

"'Chonne," his voice melted her, the concern in it making her turn towards him, the calmness of his eyes making her want to fall into him. But she stood her ground. Maybe she was projecting, maybe he was wrong. She couldn't put her heart on the line. "We have to talk."


	17. Chapter 17

_Previously: (Rick) "We have to talk."_

* * *

 **13 hours to the present:**

The harsh sound of the locking door made Michonne jump in her skin, her breath still held deep in the realms of her lungs, her heart beating as though it was trying to defend itself from her ribcages.  
"About what?" She managed to struggle out, digging her fingernails into the edge of the desk. Her body didn't turn to face him, her mind feared what would occur if she did. What would the adrenaline do? Would her knees go weaker than they already were? Would she crumble in front of him and blabber? Would he reject her, having been able to read her face from so far away and sense her feelings?

Part of her felt stupid, walking out in the middle of his speech like that. It would have no doubt drawn attention to her and her emotions in the moment. She should have waited, paced it out, smiled and hugged him, then excused herself to the toilet to gather herself up.  
Rick took a hesitant step towards her, the sound of it muffled by the carpet in the room.  
"About us." His voice is bold and steady, confident laced with a hint of comfortable knowledge. The hope that would have been previously found in trace amounts of Michonne's mind multiplied and became abundant in that moment. But still, she waited, inhaling before turning to face.

"Us?" She asked questioningly, finally finding his eyes. Blue. Sharper than ever. So attentive and bright, licked softly by the dim light of the office. It made her heart flutter, made her want to compliment him freely. But this was not the time. This was intense. The volume of it compressed the walls of her lungs, so much so that she was afraid to breathe. Afraid of the pain that would rise from her sides to her heart as she watched his hands, fingers slightly twitching at his side.

She didn't want to be wrong. Wanted to be sure that he was hinting towards a bigger picture and not destroying it instead.  
"You've know since the gathering, 'Chonne." He sighed, running his hand across his mouth in timid frustration at his confession.  
Her eyebrow rose then, the curve of her body made even more apparent as she folded her arms and a small smirk pulled at the corner of her lips. "You said you didn't remember?"  
"I lied. I've always told you that you're a bad lawyer."

They giggled, their eyes drawing away from each other, afraid of the intimacy that would come from seeing each other's faces light up at a time like this.  
Rick rubbed the back of his neck, noticing the way that Michonne's eyes followed the movement, taking a soft moment to focus on his Adams apple before flickering back to his eyes.  
The feeling was electric, it burned through the both of them, made its way from their fingertips to the centre of their chest where it hummed like birds in the mornings of spring.  
There was a temptation to be more themselves then, to switch back to the old so they would be able to bask in the feeling of needing, but not have to face the awkwardness of admitting it was there.

"What about Jessie?" Michonne whispered, ashamed of the question that popped into her mind. This wasn't something to be taken lightly. Here he was, beautiful and standing in front of her, the door locked with just them to talk. No interruptions.  
"Do you really have to ask me that?" He sighed as he walked to her. Her body straightened, anticipating contact with him. She was so unsure of what he was going to do, the way his eyes unashamedly traced her body as he came towards her made her wonder… made her want.

But, Rick Grimes placed himself next to her, resting on the desk to face the same direction she was, eliminating their eye contact.  
He was smart, she thought, its much easier to talk about feeling when you don't have to make eye contact.

"You know, when you said you were going to divorce Mike," he ignored her question, watching the door with hazy eyes. "I thought, 'this is it' and then you didn't. And I thought, maybe she's still in love with him." Michonne sat on the words for a few minutes, guilt radiating from the centre of her stomach. The idea of wasting time had fallen upon her recently and it made her feel sick, like the contents of her gut were brimming at the surface ready to remove all the bad that had ever cursed it. "Ask me the question Michonne."

She hated him in that moment. Hated the non-verbal communication they had between, like they were synced by an invisible thread of the spirit. She wanted nothing more than to leave him there, with her shame and embarrassment and start afresh from the beginning of the year. From when she found it all out. So, she would be able to find a way to meet him at a jazz café and have him then, free and all to herself. No maze games to find each other, no waiting, just straight forward victory.

"Do you love Jessie?" She was kidding herself, insecurity leaking out of her pores. A large part of her new that it couldn't be possible, not if he was stood here essentially confessing to her. But the length of time that he stayed with her, seemed content with what she provided… maybe that was love to him and maybe that was enough.  
"Do you love Mike?" The question was rough, pronounced with the littlest amount of care that someone could grasp from the air in their lungs.

Both sat quiet, Rick waiting for her to answer, his muscles tired of being restricted of actions. He wanted to pick her up and slide her on the desk. To feel the closeness of her and warmth of her against. To have her tongue on his, the taste of her he was so sure would be good, sweet, warming to the soul. But instead, he suppressed his urges and taped his fingers against the wood of the desk, imagining the sound coupled by her moans if he could have her in this room.

"No." It was almost a whisper from Michonne, because it was devastatingly obvious to her that time had indeed been wasted on attempting to stay with someone she no longer loved. And that it could have crippled one of the most emotional things she would experience in her life – Rick.  
He chuckled softly, the feeling of it running from his lips into the air. "No." Rick answered, sure of himself and the feeling in his body.

"Do you-" Rick started, before they both jumped at the sound of the door being rattled. They hushed, peering at the door like deer in headlights who were afraid they were going to be found out.  
Once the jiggle of the door stopped and the sound of footsteps left them, he continued.  
"What about me?" It was so softly spoken that it sat peacefully on top of Michonne's heart. It made her look at him, the roughness of his beard, the soft corners of his eyes where the crow feet started to form. She could have said she loved him then, the silence felt like physical pounds weighing on her bones. But how could she form it, to not look desperate or needy, but to say that a part of her she had tried to condense had wanted him for so long?

That she had finished to the idea of him?

Or that she had thought about kissing him softly until moans rose out of him in desperation?

How could she say that she simply wanted to hold his hand?

"I-"

They were interrupted again by harsh knocking on the door. Michonne cursed and shouted that she would be out soon. Part of her was still worried about how it may look, her and Rick alone together – which solidified even more of her own suppressed thoughts that maybe, just maybe, what strung between them was obvious.

She was afraid to answer with the truth.  
The back of her throat clenched to stop her speaking, to make her rationalise her next move.  
They faced each other then, Rick looked down at her like she was made of the sun and her eyes starting to hurt at how bright he shone in front of her. There was love there. It was the same way she had been looked at before, at the altar, when everything was new. But this one was more intense, it was laced with the ability to trust after being hurt before and that took a greater form of love than any.

Michonne chased her thoughts and ideas as their bodies slowly turned to face each other. She noticed the way his chest rose faster, how his breathing stuttered and his fingertips flinched towards her as quickly as they withdrew themselves.  
She wanted him to touch her, to feel the soft of his skin on her lower back. To have that.

"Do you love me?" He asked again, this time taking a step closer and placing his hand on the small of her lower back. Mentally, Michonne cursed and let her eyes flicker at the jolt of electricity that coursed through her body.  
"Yes." It was an involuntary response to his touch, the word tumbling out of her. "For a while… or maybe a long time." She whispered, letting her eyes drop in shame from his blue ones to his chest.  
The smell of pine made her tingle. Michonne wondered if it would follow her home.  
For a minute or two they stayed frozen. "I have loved you since the fair. The image of us as a family didn't stop making me happy." His fingers danced on the small of her back nervously. "And then I became your shoulder to lean on. That was hard. Especially when all I wanted was to-" He stopped himself, his face turning red from where his mind wanted to wonder.

Michonne wanted to ask, just to clarify. But she knew. She knew that with the way she tingled deep at the pit of her stomach that both their minds hand wondered about the same thing.  
They were both aware of how close they were, as if invisible strings were pulling them closer together and moving them towards each other. He had pulled her into him with one hand.

And it could have almost fallen apart, had Michonne listened to the minute part of her that told her to step away.

But she didn't.

So instead they fell together.

Their lips locked in a frenzy as Rick's hands grabbed her hips to place her onto the desk. The smoothness of the manoeuvre making Michonne groan into his mouth.  
He tasted like champagne and no canopies and it was beautiful to her.  
Her legs spread willingly, allowing him to rest against her as his lips marked their territory from the tips of her earlobes to her collar bone. She rolled her hips involuntarily, the sudden wetness making her uncomfortable but needy.

She needed him in all of this fury.

Her hands found the side of his head and drew his face back to hers, looking at him for a second before their lips locked again with a crushing force. It was as though in one single kiss they were trying to show everything. All their love and wanting and needing.  
Michonne couldn't get enough of the feeling of him hard through his trousers, pressing the not-so-discretely lace covered bud of hers as her dress had rolled up with every roll of her hips.  
One hand found the inside of her thigh then, making her gasp in response to the pulsing she felt from deep inside her.

And she wanted his hand further up, to feel what he was doing to her. To let him know that he was doing something that she hadn't experienced in a long time.  
Her lips found the lobe of his right ear and sucked as his hands roamed along her thigh, inching closer and closer.  
The anticipation almost killed her, her eyes finding the darkness of the back of her head to be somewhat a comfort.

But they soon found the room again, specifically the door, where an urgent knock interrupted them again.  
Three times wasn't anything but a sign, Michonne thought, and began to gather herself up hastily. The reality of the situation actually settling into her bones now.  
She loved her best friend.  
She had kissed him, felt his strong hands on her in places she had thought of in passing and wouldn't have been able to stop herself save for the urgent knock on the door.

Her mind didn't bother to question who it was, she didn't care. All she knew was that she needed to get out of the room, before she did something she would regret spilling out marriage counselling tomorrow – anything that could not help her case in court that is.  
Rick caught along on her hastiness.

"Hey… hey!" Michonne was already breezing past him towards the door as he shifted himself in his trousers, blushing at the indecency of it all. But his last 'hey' had been urgent. What had occurred here couldn't be the finale, there had to be more, even if it was a simple discussion with no physical action – as much as he wanted it.

Michonne hands shook at her sides, her eyes trying to tell him that no, she couldn't handle this right now. Not with all the people out there. That they would need just them and infinity to sort through all the washed up emotions that were being uncovered.

"We need to talk about this Michonne-" He stepped closer to her, the smell of pine filling her nostrils and making all the butterflies awaken again. "I need to talk about this." She could tell he wanted to kiss her again, and she the same. But the three interruptions had took their tole and she rested her hand on the door knob.

"After all of this Rick. I promise."

Turning away from him ached her sides and she unlocked the door, breathing in deeply before she opened it.  
The atmosphere didn't feel as vibrant once she returned, the paintings weren't as bright as before. Michonne's thoughts consumed her, made her react slower to the prompts from Andrea to engage and made her angry at the way Jessie's hands reached out for Rick the minute he entered the crowd again.

But she just reminded herself of where his hands had been.

Then quickly felt guilty of the thought.

And as though he knew she would feel this way, his eyes found her and so did the soft curve of his lips, easing her into herself so that she remembered the tingling feeling of his lips on hers.

* * *

After the last of the crowd had gone, including Jessie who had pestered to stay but was kindly rejected many times by Rick, they were alone.

And they acted shamefully, darting around each other as they checked on the kids and observed the paintings whilst collected plastic cups that had found the floor.  
They weren't meant to clean so thoroughly, both of them knew that, but it was precious time they got together without interruptions . It allowed them to think simultaneously.

They stood in the supply closet, rummaging for brooms and mops to help with some spillages and litter. Michonne on her tip toes trying to reach a box at the top that looked promising, Rick's eyes peaking at the shape of her in the dress and the way it rose every time she lifted her arm in desperate attempt.  
The soft moans that left her lips with each effort didn't help his case and he felt himself shifting in his trousers.

"If you want me to help, we're going to have to talk." It was subtle, said with an equal amount of fear and hope. He didn't want to make sudden movements and scare her, like a deer in the open forest. Just small steps, small enough to not let her know what he was trying to do.  
Michonne turned to face him, her eyebrows scrunched up in small frustration at the ultimatum she had been given. "You know Grimes," she sighed, "You're a real piece of work."

A big smile placed itself on his lips as he rubbed the back of his neck. "We both are."  
The enormity of what had occurred between them earlier caught both of their lungs in fists and took their breaths away. Michonne knew it would come the minute she investigated his eyes and braced herself, straightening her posture for the impact.  
The softness of his expression made her take slow steps towards him, forgetting about the box at the top that she just couldn't reach. She finished before him, the tips of their shoes and their chests touching, the proximity comforting in a way.

Ever since they had left each other in the office whilst the guests were there, they had remained distant, awkwardly dancing around each other to the point that it felt foreign and strange.  
But here they were, in the silence and cover of a store cupboard that let them be who they were and who they wanted to be.

"You…" Rick started, his fingers twitching towards her, their fingerprints making contact every two seconds or so. "I don't have the words." A frustrated sigh left his lips as hands finally took hold of hers, his eyes urgent, almost crazy. "I mean yes… yes I do. Michonne. I have all the words for you and only you and I can't just sit here and watch-"

She cut him off, her heart racing in her chest from his steady flow of almost confessions. They melted into each other, his hands slipping to the small of her waist and then her back as her hands found the bulge of his arms and the back of his neck.  
They separated soon enough, foreheads pressed together, eyes closed and trying to rack through their minds and stop the firing of signals within it that buzzed and buzzed.

The heaving of their chests lowered, and their fingers laced slowly by their sides, Rick adding a slight delicate swing to the movement.  
"Am I like him?" She questioned, although it felt more like a statement filled with criticism and hurt and anger. The crinkling of her forehead moved Rick's own and it made him scowl. Her eyes were still closed but pressed even more tightly than before.

The feeling of Rick's thumb rubbing over the back of her hand burned her with a guilt she didn't know how to process.  
Was she like Mike?

Was she who he was?

Did she care?

Was she only feeling guilt because she felt it would differ them in the moment?

Her eyes peaked up from the floor, following Rick's body to the middle of his chest, where she imagined she would lay if this was a different scenario.  
If Mike hadn't been there all this wasted time.

It hurt to think about, so much so that she sucked in breath with a hiss and pushed away from him.

"Michonne?" Her silence spoke enough for Rick, so instead of stepping forward, took a small shuffle away from her to give her space. "You're not like him."

Brown eyes questioned blue ones.

"You're not!" Rick demanded her to believe him. "You can't be."

But she was. She was.

Yes, there was a divorce on the table, but she didn't even manage to hold out until that was good and going.  
And when she thought about it, she had been loving Rick for months prior. Her pitch being sweeter than honey around him, her feet always facing him, her hands not too shy whenever he was around.  
And to the trained eye, that may have looked like cheating.

 _Could everyone around her see that this day was coming and if they did, did they view her the same as Mike?_

It was all too much, the doubt, the insecurities. It gripped her throat, tore at her eyes until they threatened to leak tears that wouldn't stop.  
But she breathed, throwing her head back and straightening her spine. She could no longer look at him, but only at the door, as the volume of her lungs shrank and shrank to almost nothing.

"I have to go get Andre now." Her voice was flatter, the pitch of sincerity gone, and it hurt Rick, stabbed him like thorns at his side… it made him mean.  
"What do you mean?" His body acted as a shield, partially blocking her step.  
"Exactly what I said."

This wasn't the same now, it was tenser, the struggle of two lovers that knew what they needed and one being too ashamed to fall into it.  
"What are you so afraid of Michonne?" He had never been this tense before, the grit of his teeth apparent to her.  
"Nothing."

"Michonne!"

"Nothing."

"'Chonne, just be honest with me, what is-?!"

"I'm scared that I'm a product of Mike. Of his dishonesty and his betrayal, like he owns me in some way. Like I am him. Or at least part of him and that disgusts me!" Barging past him, she made a small jog towards the door, determined to be done for good. Her head heart like her heart and lungs and stomach.  
Her hand on the doorknob, she turned it, breathing heavily as she felt Rick's eyes on her.

"I wouldn't love you if you were." It was a soft confession again, one that swayed through the air and placed itself delicately on Michonne's collarbone. Made her pause and figure out the words, roll it on her tongue so she was sure, act it out in her mind.

Love. Again.

A big word.

Full of so many hopes and promises that neither of their lovers had fulfilled.

Would he use it so freely? So confidently?

She hoped he was.

But her mind still ached, not with uncertainty of how she felt for him but the need for clarity in her life. To reassure herself that she wasn't anything like Mike.

"When everything is clearer, I will love you better." Her voice rang with sadness, whilst Rick's responded with impatience.  
"And how long will that take Michonne?" His voice broke, causing her shoulders to rise in a flinch. "I've been waiting her. Fucking a woman hoping she was you sometimes." She heard him step forward. "How long?" He pleaded.

"Dad?" They both jumped at the sound of Carl's voice on the other side of the door. "Are we going now?"

And Michonne proceeded to open the door as both her and Rick simultaneously placed smiles on their faces.

* * *

Mike had always slept deeply, rarely ever stirring.

Michonne was aware of the tissue boxes near his bed and the books of self help that he had scattered on the floor.

But it didn't matter.

She sat on the edge of bed close to him.

Stared at the face she had loved once so passionately it could have lit up a whole city.

And she cried at the loss, one final time.

And she held him, his hand finding a way to snake onto just between her shoulder blades as he grinned in his sleep far away from everything.

And Michonne was sorry she would have to break his heart just like he broke hers

* * *

 **A/N: I'm sorry its taken so long, university is hard :(.**


	18. Finale

**I have come to hate people who hide behind guests accounts only to criticise stories and not be constructive.**

* * *

 **Finale:**

Michonne hadn't managed to find comfort in sleep. Instead she focused on what was to come ahead.

The therapy session.

It grated away at her pride, but she knew she would have to go and she would give him no hope during the car ride. Her mouth would be zipped shut as she thought over her words, gritting the back rows of her teeth to powder if it meant doing so.

Surprisingly, the bitter imagination of this day that had looped in her mind after handing him the divorce papers was no longer there.  
She just wanted it done and off her chest.

She wanted Rick.

The night had allowed her to envision the future and she knew wanted, and things that had to go to get it.  
Her slender frame sat on the sofa, bringing coffee to her lips as her eyes glazed on the news but her ears only heard the ticking sound to the time of rebirth.  
Michonne was focusing so much on the tick and the tock of the clock that she didn't hear Mike enter, nor did she stir until he cleared his throat and made her spill some of a coffee.

"Ready?" Although he tried to mask it, Michonne was unfortunately aware of the slight spring in his voice and so to maintain her composure, and not speak too soon, her eyes did not meet him as she gave him and nod and walked towards the door.

* * *

Mike hadn't decided to mention the divorce papers, which didn't bother Michonne as she slunk back into the chair and watched Rose start the session.  
She seemed weary.  
Maybe it was them, draining the energy out of the poor woman.  
Maybe it was a sign.

 _"This is changing." He spat. "It hasn't been the same since... since so long." Mike ran his hands over his head and bent forward, looking at the ground, slightly rocking to the beat of anger that pumped through his veins._

 _"Michonne, do you think that your marriage is changing or has changed?" The therapist asked her, her lips pursed, her pen tapping the notebook resting on a thigh of her crossed legs._

 _"Of course, she'll say no! She won't admit it. Every time her phone buzzes I may as well not even be here!" Mike interrupted, tightening his hands into fists that he placed on his thighs. He couldn't form the words through the hurt, his vision was blurred as he looked at the red carpet and now he understood... he understood how she had felt when he had done everything, when he had been wrong._

 _Michonne's mind was racing._

 _What would her response be?_

 _Would it be the right response?_

 _Did she have to give the right response?_

 _She thought about Andre._

 _Would he forgive her eventually?_

 _"Mr. Anthony, it would be best if you gave her time to reply, as the question was directed towards her. But, your feelings are still valid in the meantime." Michonne felt a smile tingle her lips. She had loved this therapist, had loved her straight forward way of approaching the subject of their marriage.  
She would miss her._

 _The area in which Michonne knew her heart was positioned ached at that thought. She was giving up. Where had the years gone? Where would they go after this? Would Rick take her in, her tail between her legs.  
She had lost herself in the process, lost the burning sensation to jump into new things alone and independently... but sometimes, no all times, she sighed, he bought it back. Rick, bought it back._

 _Michonne was aware that she was taking long to respond. That she was confirming the doubts that had plagued Mike at night, kept him awake until she returned in the middle of the night, creeping like a burglar trying to escape although she had nothing to hide during the jazz times. Until yesterday, she thought, where things had escalated.  
This morning the way they had moved around each other felt fraudulent. She was sure Mike had felt it to, with the way his hands slithered away from her on multiple occasions whenever he was close to her._

 _"I just need a moment, okay?" The therapist made eye contact with her, giving her a small smile of encouragement, allowing the butterflies in her stomach to wrap themselves up and hang patiently until they were next needed._

 _Mike continued to talk then, ignoring the request of the therapist to give Michonne time and allow her to gather her thoughts. Her mind tuned him out as she pictured Rick, his sloppy smile and his strong hands, where the slight tint of a previous wedding band had branded him. The dip in his voice when they have spoken and how it had hurt... how it had hurt them both.  
Although the hum of Mike's ranting still hung in he ears, she braced herself as she looked over at him. Looked at the anguish on his face, how deep the lines ran on his forehead, the darkness of the bags under his eyes that seemed to hang low, pulled on by gravity with such force._

 _She wanted to pine for him, to take her heart out of her chest and pine for him, but she couldn't. Here he was feeling her hurt and she had wanted this day to come, had even been down her knees to the all mighty and prayed that it would come and now that it was here... she didn't want to be a part of it._

 _Michonne didn't want to be like him._

 _But, she wasn't. She wasn't like him. There had been love when this began and he had taken that love and suffocated it, until it couldn't breathe, with lies and false ways._

 _"It's him, it's Rick." The crack in Mike's voice disrupted the trance Michonne was in and she gripped the chair arms so tightly that her nails began to hurt._

 _"No Mike, this... this changed a long time ago."_

The reality of it sunk into Mike's chest and he drew in a deep breath, his eyes dropping to the ground and his hands clasped tightly together. Michonne watched as a lump made it's way down Rose's throat, the room tense, everything in it looking at Michonne's mouth and waiting for her to continue.

But she didn't know if the 'more' that rang within her was appropriate, whether it would make things easier or harder for him. Right now, she could twist the knife and talk about how slowly her feelings had developed for Rick, how he made her feel and how it compared to them, make Mike hate her and sign the papers quicker than anything in the world.  
Or, she could be quiet and let the flame die so softly and warmly, that this could all work out with the least amount of fuss.

And then she remembered.

There were still blanks that needed to be filled in.

And all this time, all she had focused on was her hurt and Andre, but never the situation itself. Not the depth of it.  
The hypocrisy of Mike brightened up in the room, the silence of his stiff curved posture swimming in hurt tempted Michonne.  
Although she had been silent for so long, she wouldn't allow herself to be the bad guy.

"Rose, would you say we've missed an important, crucial step in this whole process?" Her tone caused Mike's back to straighten, causing him to peer over at her confidently placed posture, one leg crossed over the other and both resting on her right knee.

Rose's eye raised, trying to determine where Michonne was going. "Well, there is no set instruction for how this process is meant to go. However, I'm afraid I do not follow. Can you explain?"  
"In my cases, I always make sure I know the five W's, do you know what they are?" Rose's eyebrow raised again, her pen stopped tapping on her paper as she lent forward, intrigued. "Who, what, when, where, why… and how, but it doesn't really fit the bill."

It seemed to dawn on Mike where Michonne was going with this, the soft turn of her neck like a curse to him. The stone look on his face would have amused her if her blood wasn't boiling in her ears.

"It's not necessary, Mich." His body was just as rigid as before, looking straight ahead.

"No nicknames Mike." She taunted, getting tired of watching him form a circle in which he could be chased around.

"We've come this far and you want to know now?" The anger thickened his voice, made his jaw tight and his teeth grit to sawdust.

"Yes I want to know now." Her voice rose, she was not ashamed to bite back, astounded at his need to control the situation before them. The situation that he had caused more than a year ago.

"I'm not doing that to you Michonne." There it was, the caring man that sometimes hung himself out to dry for the whole world to see. But Michonne knew what is truly was. Was aware of the soft beading of sweat that formed near his forehead, of the nervous glances to Rose as all his truth would pour out and he would no longer look like the misdone guy. The guy that had been misled by his wife all these months only to end in divorce and her pining for another man right in front of him.

"You didn't care what you did to me all those months ago and I-"

"Can't you let it g-"

"No Mike! Not until I know what I need to know!" The craziness in her eyes made Rose raise a hand, trying to simmer down the situation, but Michonne cut her a look that said to let her do this. "Because then I won't have to refer to all them months ago, where I threw your phone and you changed this marriage forever!" The rise and fall of her chest was apparent to everyone in the room, the clenching of her digits into fist changed her aura. Made her unapproachable and almost unrecognisable. She controlled her breathing as she uncurled her fists and stared at the palm of her hands, praying that she would remain like this, in a relaxed state, so all the negativity wouldn't taint her once she left the room. "Do not," she breathed, "tell me to let it go, one more time. I'm so tired of hearing that phrase from you." The exhaustion in her voice echoed from the corners of the room.

They sat in silent for a few more seconds, Rose waiting patiently, waiting for everything to unfold.  
Mike's mouth opened and closed repeatedly, forming a sentence only to throw it away in the trash.  
A sign preceded what he wanted to say, "If I say this Michonne, you know…" His voice broke, causing him to clear his throat and look at Rose self-consciously. "You know what this will do to us."

She did.

And she was ready.

All the unknown and known facts plagued the back of her mind, placing themselves in the folds of her brain so they were with every thought and she needed to rid herself of them.  
To be a blank slate for the future that was so close to her grasp.

"Aren't you tired Mike?" He looked at her then, the bags under his eyes apparent, the red rim of his eyes so obvious against the white. They had aged each other, witnessed the forming of lines around their mouths due to the constant frowns that found them in each others presence.

Mike gave up, sighing and hunching his back as his hands clasped together in front of him. She would not receive the satisfaction of looking into his eyes, as he instead looked straight towards the wall the minute his mouth opened.

"She worked… works with me. She was new to the company, no one you had met before. And I don't know where-" He was derailing, the guilt causing him to grasp at strings.  
"How did it start?" Michonne's eyes flickered to Rose who sat there, who threw an encouraging smile towards Michonne for taking the reins.  
Mike sighed again. "An accident. One stupid accident."

"It wasn't an accident if it continued… but carry on."

"The annual summer work party, that you couldn't come to because you came down with this stupid flu. I had drunk a bit and so had she, then one thing led to another."

"And there was no hint of it before? No flirting? No touches?" Michonne asked, the lack of care in her radiating throughout the room. "Who initiated it Mike?"  
His silence spoke volumes.

"And who wanted it to carry on? The both of you?" Again, silence. The stone like statue of what could be called a man sat like an anchor in the room, dragging everything down.  
Michonne could have allowed herself to see red in the corner of her eyes, to be consumed with the feeling of disgust and anger all over again, like ripping off the scab of an old wound. But she didn't. Instead she inhaled, knowing that this was part of the process and that closure wasn't always given so if you had a chance to get it, you better.

"How long did it last for? Before I found out?" The moment flashed in her mind, the blur of throwing the phone and then his clothes on the front porch, the deep gut filling emotion that wreaked havoc on her appetite ghosted along her intestines. She was a different person then, so much so that it almost felt like a lifetime ago, everything was tainted with a faintness that she just couldn't grasp as her own.

"8 months… give or take."

They sat in silence as Michonne looked for anything else to ask before she walked out the door. The weight of it all was almost breath taking, in a positive way. Everything, out in the open, allowing her to have no strings tied to this man other than the fact they shared a son. After this, there would be no more emotional baggage. It would just be paper thin memories that floated around in her brain when she stayed up too late. Because she had been given a year to grieve, to anger, to be lost and to be found and to find love, again. By accident. But nevertheless, a love that burned her in her gut like the first time she had laid eyes on Mike… maybe even more so now that she was grown and knew what love entailed.

"Why did it end?"

"Because you found out."

Michonne kissed her teeth. "We know that's not the reason. You could have still fooled around with me not knowing since you had done it for so long. Why?" Her head turned towards the door as she asked the final 'why', this was her final question before she left her old life behind for good.

"A month or so after you took me back, she messaged me telling me…" The gulp he took was loud and unashamed. "She was pregnant. And she didn't know if it was mine or her husbands. But she would rather not find out… so she stayed with him, whilst I stayed with you."

And if Michonne had asked this questions near the beginning of all of this, she knew she would have crumbled. Would have been left in a daze, a dark deep hole she wasn't sure she could have climbed out of. But now… now it pressed off of her like an accident, like something that haphazardly tried to be dangerous but just wasn't.

Filling her lungs with air, Michonne stood up, picking up her bag along the way. The sudden change in dynamic put a confused face on both Rose and Mike, but Michonne ignored it, the smile on her face unformidable.  
"Rose, thank you, for everything."

She began to walk towards the door, wanting to leave without saying a word. But it wasn't realistic, it wasn't adult-like, it wasn't going to get things sorted. Because at the end of the day after she was going to do what she was about to do, she was going to have to come back home to Andre and to Mike as he packed his things to leave.

"Mike, I could have loved you forever if you had let me. It's funny, because I had always imagined forever with you. We had Andre and I thought we were set for it all, I even gave up my career. But you did this, you made me put those divorce papers in front of you, you made me fall out of love with you. And at first, I was so mad at you. I was so hurt. How could you do that to me? To your son? But it's for the better, for your son especially, because I'm better." She laughed at the confidence that spilled out of her mouth. "Before I get home, I want you to start packing and find somewhere to go, I'll message the babysitter to hang onto Andre a little longer. Then I want those divorce papers signed, quickly."

Her hand touched the warmth of the doorknob, like a sign that everything was going to be alright and Michonne didn't look back as she walked into the hallway.

* * *

Michonne was both patient and impatient.

Her hands in her lap fiddling with her car keys like they had the answer.

But she was thinking of everything.

Of the turn of events, of the foundation of her life at the given moment and how it was both breath-taking and shattering at the same time.

A fresh slate, but still a fear of the unknown.

She hadn't experienced such a feeling a while, having gone through all the 'fresh slates' of life – a marriage, a job, a child. But Michonne knew that she was thankful for it and what it meant for her, even if it had made her sit in a hot car for about 20 minutes, the sweat collecting at her brow.

What if she knocked on the door and Jessie answered?

That would be a sign.

What if she knocked on the door and Carl answered?

That may be a sign.

What if she knocked on the door and he answered? The soft blue of his eyes unravelling her and making her run back to the night before, to the softness of his lips and the burn that followed everywhere that he touched her.

Her eyes stung at the weight of the emotion that sat on her heart, heavy and pulling her down. Pulling her out of the car. The confidence in her step, the confidence in the slam of the car door and her feet up the stairs.  
To anyone watching, she would seem like the most put together woman they'd ever seen but if you looked closely, you'd see the hesitation of her fist just before she knocked the door and the twitching at the corner of her lips, like a nervous tick that she couldn't get rid of.

The waiting is what clawed at her. The idea that so many eyes were watching her and waiting, waiting to see if all the stars would align for her to try again with him, for all the second chances she had never taken to show up and grant her this one thing.

And part of her knew she didn't deserve it.

And she would tell him.

She knew she would if he opened the door.

The sound of footsteps haltered her mind, making everything come to a stop. She was hypersensitive now, aware of how her limbs were placed, of how her heart was racing and punching her ribs. Were her lips dry? What was she going to say the minute she saw him?

The blueness of his eyes calmed her the minute he opened the door, the surprise in them making her gather words and thoughts quickly.  
"Hey 'Chonne… aren't you meant to be at-?"  
"Is Jessie here?" It came out more urgent than she wanted, but she liked the atmosphere. How it had settled so quickly, how the sun had peaked over her shoulder and made his eyes glisten, made his face glow so beautifully it stabbed at her conscious.

"No, I have to tell you about-"

"Is Carl here?"

"No his-"

She kissed him as quickly as she could, the distance between them seemed so much further than she had wanted. But she still found his lips, placing her hands on the side of his face and closing her eyes as she did so. Part of her was afraid that he wouldn't kiss her back, that she had lost him yesterday, in all the frustration he had held in the palm of his hands when she walked away from him, but that part of her died when his tongue found hers.

They deepened the kiss, the snaking of his arms around her waist, the warmth as they pressed against each other, her hands found the curls at the back of his head.  
Eventually they slowed down, realising that they were still only on his doorstep, a sigh leaving both of their wet lips to fill in the space between them, a soft smile following at the contentment of the situation.

Michonne walked past him and he followed her to the living room, where she sat expectantly and waited for him to do the same.  
The silence between them wasn't awkward, but it was delicate and understanding and comfortable.

"I'm done." Michonne said, looking at him, at the soft rise of his chest with every breath.

"Me too." He replied, finding her eyes.

There were no more ties for either of them and it was such a relief that Michonne could have cried.

"I'm sorry." She moved closer to him, so their knees touched as she held his face every so slightly. "I wasn't fair to you, Rick."

"It was a difficult situation, so I-"

"Rick, there's no excuse. I should have done things differently, faced things. There were so many times that I knew but I –"  
"We're here now, 'Chonne." It was such a finite statement that it made her hold her breath. "Do you get it? It still worked out, bad decisions and all… for both of us."  
Michonne kissed him again, sliding into his lap and wrapping her legs around him. The burn of his fingers creating trails around her neck and her arms.  
The soft kisses turned to more, the build up of months of flirtatious, stifled air finally being worked through. Her hands reached for the end of his shirt impatiently as she placed hungry kisses below his left ear, eliciting a small moan from him that she had dreamt of and thought of at the coffee machine at work. She loved the sound of him, loved the reassurance she received from the bulge that pressed against her.

Loved his hunger after he had pulled of his shirt and reached for her everything, skilfully helped with taking off her everything as he still found ways to kiss her and leave her burning.

Loved the look in his eyes as they both realised they were about to reach a new medium between them, and then loved the way his mouth cursed when he had to run and get a condom from upstairs.

Loved the way that they both moaned, looking at each other as he pressed into her, the girth of him just right, followed by the way he placed kisses down her from her neck to each breast before sucking on them, his tongue making her wetter around him.

Loved the way he talked about her as it turned from making love to fucking, how dirty he spoke about her, mentioning how tight she was and how good she looked, the urgency but kindness as they switched position.

It was the kisses on her back that almost undone her, the way that he spread her legs right after them and found a way to lick her sex, causing her to almost squeal in delight.  
She moaned for him, moaned for the way he grabbed her sides as he fucked her from behind and slowed it down when he realised she was going to get there without him. He didn't want that. Not for the first time.

He moaned for her, for the way her ass slapped against his thighs and how thin her waist looked in comparison. The sound of her saying his name made his eyes roll into the back of his head, the pleasure so good it almost made him dumb.  
Rick found a rhythm that made her squirm, the tell-tale sign of her clenching around him made him want to cum, but he was in love with the sound of her. Of how she purred out his name and told him to fuck her.

"Rick," she said looking back at him, the pitch of her voice high as he slowed down.  
"Yeah?" He was almost breathless as he left her, hating the harsh coldness of the air compared to her.  
But Michonne was smiling and manoeuvred them so she sat on top of him again, the visual of her sliding down onto him almost making him cum then and there.  
Even as she started to move, the parting of her lips and the look of her face let him know she was close and Rick loved it. Loved how him slapping her ass and grabbing it made Michonne ride him faster, the wetness leaking from her down his upper thigh, the bounce of her breast in his face as she reached her climax and he reached his, both squeezing their eyes so tight they saw stars.

Michonne rode out the convulsions of her orgasm, as Rick twitched inside her, their breaths eventually matching to a slow and steady rhythm.

"You are something else." Rick commented, kissing her shoulder as she leaned against him. The deep breath that he took prepared her for his next question. "Is this what you want?"  
"Rick-"  
"I just need to be sure because I've felt like it before and it's not gone that way, you know?"

"Rick, I know. It was my indecisiveness, my fault. But… I'm here now. One hundred percent… plus, it means we can go to jazz café's every night if we want to."

The joke lightened the mood like it was meant to.

* * *

Michonne had wanted to stay longer, wanted to crack open a bottle of wine and talk to him about the things they thought they could be so late in life, but she couldn't.

In the time between them cleaning up and her leaving, they had cleaned their slate towards one another. They had talked about Jessie and Mike and Carl and Andre.

It was enough.

And more than that.

A feeling that didn't die as she watched Mike pack his things silently and allowed Andre to watch his TV shows before he officially said goodbye.  
"Are you happy? With the terms on the paper?" Michonne asked.  
"Happy? That's a word we can use here?" Mike scoffed, placing another bag near the door.  
"Are they adequate, should I say?" Her eyes flicked down the hall to Andre on the sofa, watching the tv, his little head lulling into a sleep and bouncing back whenever he fell too much to the side. She smiled at him, her heart warm and loving.

"I guess. I can't really argue. You know me and what I want too well." He almost laughed, but remembered what they were referring to and the line of his lips remained tight.  
He picked up all his bag in one go, throwing a duffle bag over his shoulders.  
Mike paused right in front of her, to look at her then the bedroom and then her. She knew he was waiting for something, but she couldn't give him anything. Her body was tainted with the sweat of another man that she loved and she couldn't, ever. Mike sensed it, dropping his head. "Goodbye Mich."

He walked towards Andre and kissed him on the forehead and rested him, so he would stop falling as he started to fall asleep.  
Michonne walked towards the door as Mike left for it, holding it open.  
They paused again, the moment final, but a good final, even if it was just for one of them.  
"We'll be better parents this way Mike." Michonne whispered. "And friends. For us and for Andre, right?"

"Right."


	19. Epilogue

**Epilogue:**

 **8 months later:**

"Rick, the boys are right in the living room."

He had pressed up against her at the kitchen sink, the motivation obvious as it pressed into her backside.

"And I'm trying to wash the dishes." She elbowed him away.

"Well, I'm sorry but you look so good domestically, all shapely at the sink."

"And I'd look even better kicking your ass."

"You sure would." Rick placed his hands on her hips and twisted her towards him, grabbing her lips in a kiss and she rubbed her soapy hands in his hair.

He had a way of kissing her and taking her breath away, his lips so soft the clouds couldn't compare. And he knew her spots, the ones that made her weak, made her give into him even though 5 minutes ago she was so adamant she wouldn't give him a thing.  
It had led them to be active in dangerous places – deep forests, car parks after late night shopping.

But she loved him.

And he loved her.

For the way they both melted into each other's lives and became one, working together through things instead of against each other.

There was a delicacy towards how they treated the other, the never raised voices, the tentative touches whenever the other seemed tense. Both knew that it was because of what they had experienced in the past, all they had gained and lost and learnt.  
But it made them better, better than their past selves. Everything was still new and fresh and exciting, the laugh of his, the softness that touched their hearts when Carl helped put Andre to sleep or they played games together.

"Rick, you better stop kissing me before the boys learn about the birds and bees' way too early." She hit him on the shoulder and found a kitchen towel to wipe her hands.  
"Not until you promise I get some of the birds and the bees later?" He pecked her neck, then went back in to lick her neck.

A soft moan left her lips. "Yes baby."

"Good! Come on, 'Chonne." Rick took her hand and bought her to the living room, where they huddled on the sofa with Carl and Andre.

And Michonne's heart swelled as she rested in the nook of Rick's arm.

* * *

Hello, I'd like to thank everyone for finishing this story and realising I can't write smut to save my life. BUT for all the constructive criticism, the positivity, I will thank you. It feels good to finish a story.


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